


The Truth They Fear

by frek



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team take a job in the mountains to clear a man's name. While investigating the relationship between mark and employer, Arthur and Eames discover new developments in their own relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written with the amazing Eleniatallah from LJ. Set pre-movie, shortly after Phillipa is born.

"The Kings county sheriff's department's uniform looks like this." Arthur held up the glossy 5x7 photograph, studied it himself a bit, then held it out to Eames. The team had only been working on this case for two days, but Arthur already looked tired, lines starting to appear under his eyes and today, he had not even bothered to wear a tie with his red button-down shirt.

It was 10 PM. The three men were at their meeting place, a dirty hotel suite. It was dark, dank and only lit by the stained lamps by the beds. Papers were spread all over the frayed bedspreads, making them either sit in one of the two desk chairs or, less preferably, on the floor. Arthur naturally had chosen to stand.

"The pants have white stripes going down the leg," Arthur continued. "I'm hoping we can get a hold of a real uniform to study."

Eames nodded, studying the photograph Arthur handed him, making note of every button and fold of the uniform. He was going to be wearing one, so he needed to know it best. He handed the photo off to Cobb to examine, moving on to the other pages piled along the beds. He picked up pictures of their squad car and one filled with information on the mark. "Why don't we just ask his partner? He is the guy who hired us, isn't he?"

"Mr. Jones seems to have some sort of vendetta against us borrowing a uniform. He seems very... skittish about hiring us in general. Doesn't want anyone to know, obviously, but is especially secretive about it." Cobb explained, taking the photo and giving it a look himself.

"Can't say I blame him," Arthur said, leaning over and shuffling a few of the papers on the bed off to the side, revealing a photo of the mark, Mr. Winchester, and his partner, Mr. Jones. They looked happy, obviously good friends. "These men just try to make ends meet in their ordinary lives, in a little sleepy town. How Mr. Jones even knows about our trade is shocking. I'm not even sure he really understands what we do."

"How can he afford us?" Eames asked, standing up to stretch.

Cobb shook his head. "Not sure, only that he paid up front." It wasn't his role to understand the client's means, only to do the job and take their money. Besides, if he had to worry about how every one of his clients paid for their work, he'd spend even more of his time stressed out.

"Arthur, when can I meet this Mr. Jones? If I'm to impersonate him, I need to learn his mannerisms, the way he talks and thinks." Eames moved across the room as he talked, stopping when he was facing Arthur.

"Tomorrow, if you wish. I'm supposed to meet him for an update on our progress, as well as for more information about Mr. Winchester. Cobb is making a map of the town to use in the dream."

Cobb nodded. "He insisted they meet in the middle of the god damn woods. I hope at least one of you is a good naturalist."

Eames nodded at Cobb. "We did some work in the forests with the military, so I have experience. But my specialty has always been the city. I'm going to bet that we're going to have an interesting time of things, then, tomorrow." He turned back to Arthur, "Wouldn't you agree, darling?"

"Hmm." Arthur hummed in his throat a little, placing his hands in his pockets. "I think Mr. Jones will be somewhat different from how you think of him presently."

\- - -

The next day, Eames found Arthur had been spot on. They met the man at 6 AM, and the sun was barely up. Charles Jones wore a hat and sunglasses, like he was trying to hide from his nonexistent watchers. Arthur and Eames silently listened to the other man talk, and Arthur watched Eames out of the corner of his eye, watching him pick up the subtle signals from Mr. Jones that one could not pick up from a photo or a phone call.

The hand gestures, the posture, the way his voice changed when he talked about Mr. Winchester. Acquaintances and even friends of Mr. Jones might not be able to pick up on it, but Arthur was convinced there was more to this case than whether or not Mr. Winchester committed a crime, and he wondered if Eames had picked up on it as well.

While Arthur talked with Mr. Winchester about the job, Eames stood by his side, watching the other man closely. While he noticed the main things, the way his hand always rested near his holster at his side and how he ran a hand through his hair whenever he worked himself up. Eames also saw the way his eyes softened when he spoke about his partner and the hesitation in his voice whenever he spoke about the possibility of him committing a crime. There was something else going on between the two men that he was trying to hide from them. Eames continued watching, while Arthur finished setting up the final details of the job, making mental notes to discuss with the point man when they get back to the car.

After an hour and half, the man wandered away, his head shifting from side to side, still on edge and watching for anyone who wasn't part of this little operation. Arthur shook his head, jotting notes in his moleskin notebook, a slightly amused smile playing on his lips.

"So, what kind of deductions have you made about Mr. Jones?" Arthur asked Eames as he pocketed the moleskin in the inside of his suit jacket.

Eames thought over what he had witnessed, every movement and word that the man had made or said. "He's hiding something more from us. Something about his relationship with his partner." He stroked his thumb over his lip, thinking about the connotations of what he believed may be happening. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that they were involved with each other. In a very personal way, I mean." He stole a quick glance at Arthur, wondering what his reaction to the news may be.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, my thoughts exactly. There's no doubt in my mind that Jones is conflicted whether or not Winchester committed that rape. But his behavior adds a whole new dimension to this case. I wonder if his feelings are reciprocated, or if part of the whole reason he hired us was to scrounge up that kind of info as well."

"The way his voice sounds when he speaks about Winchester hints at a certain closeness to the other man, I wouldn't be surprised if the feelings were reciprocated. Which, of course, makes things even more... interesting with my role in this." Eames followed Arthur back to the car, climbing into the passenger seat. "I'm going to have to play the boyfriend." He laughed, teasing Arthur, "You aren't going to be jealous, are you, darling?"

Arthur snorted, starting the rented Jeep and rolled his eyes at Eames. "Don't worry, you won't have to worry about my reactions." He said, rolling the Jeep onto a dirt trail that followed out of the forest. "You sure you can forge someone as mild-mannered, quiet and utterly polite as our Mr. Jones?"

Eames winked at Arthur, "I'll just have to save all the inappropriate comments for you, then." He reached down into his bag and pulled out a bottle of water, offering it to Arthur first. "Aren't you glad you get to ride the whole way back to the hotel with me?"

"Completely ecstatic." Arthur replied in an exaggerated deadpan, taking the bottle of water and taking a long drink before passing it back to Eames. He scratched his ear, thinking.

"Jones told us that Winchester's squad car was seen around the time that woman was raped. But Winchester vehemently denies it, and obviously Jones is conflicted. He also says that Winchester is an insanely private person, thus I believe whatever he has hidden in the recesses of his mind will be difficult to find unless we somehow trick his brain into bringing us closer to the information. But Cobb and I think we'll need a fairly long span of time in the dreamscape in order to crack him." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I think there's more to these men than just two humdrum police officers caught up in a little crush."

"What are you seeing?" Eames asked, wondering if there was something that he may have missed, unlikely as it was. He thought about what he had seen while they were talking to Jones, trying to piece together the puzzle, knowing there _was_ something there that he just couldn't place. "I'm missing something here," he finally admitted out loud, the confusion clear on his face.

"Well, Jones payed all of your expenses up front, in cash. Come on. When's the last time even our wealthiest clients did that? Then we have Winchester, whose mind seems to be not exactly militarized, but strongholded." He shrugged. "I'm not sure they're _just_ town cops."

"So what are you thinking? FBI, CIA? Or more along the lines of Mafia?" Eames mind worked overtime trying to follow the thought pattern Arthur had established. How could he have missed something so important?

"I'm not sure yet," Arthur replied, chewing on the pad of his thumb, a habit he had developed recently when he was concentrating and had yet to squelch. "I'm going to need more information in order to make that kind of deduction. If it proves to be applicable to the job to find out, I'll make sure to gather the information I need from reality, and Winchester's dreamscape."

Eames nodded, trusting Arthur would handle the situation appropriately. "Did you want to go into a dream when we get back? I need to practice my forge for someone who's been able to analyze him as much as I have."

"Yes, that's fine. Cobb is probably still mapping the town. And we still need to scrounge up a decent architect, unless Cobb wants to build the levels as well. Which he might, who knows what part he wants to play this time."

By the time their Jeep arrived back at the hotel, it was eleven. They entered the hotel room and Arthur immediately began to set up the PASIV for the two men to enter into Arthur's dream.

Eames dropped his jacket on a chair in the corner and wandered across the room to the bed, while Arthur set up the PASIV. He leaned back on the bed next to the PASIV, offering his arm to Arthur for the IV. "You should try and recreate something from his file. I know you're not going to be the architect, but we may as well practice in the right environment."

Eames watched Arthur nod in agreement as he set up the PASIV, inserting the IVs into both their arms. He closed his eyes, getting comfortable before Arthur depressed the button, sending them into the dream.

\- - -

Arthur stood on the concrete sidewalk in front of the red brick police station, eying his handiwork carefully. He had only been to the police station twice, but besides their multi-room hotel headquarters, it was the best visual picture he had in his head at the moment. He had not dressed himself in a uniform, instead, deciding on a flannel shirt and jeans, hoping that wearing such clothing would help him blend in with his surroundings as a civilian. The sun was on the brink of setting in the dreamscape.

"Will this be sufficient?" He asked, looking back at Eames with his eyebrows raised.

Eames looked around the layout of the dream, taking in the details of the police station Arthur had constructed. Everything seemed to be in place for the most part, nothing major missing and no glaring errors. He nodded in response to Arthur, "We can work with this."

He glanced down at his clothing, running his hands over the navy blue of the uniform, adjusting his name badge, everything seemed to be in place. Eames started walking toward the police house, entering the brick building and leading the way to the bathroom. He wanted to be in front of a mirror the first time he tried this forge. He turned in the hallway, spying Arthur just entering the building, "Coming, darling?"

Arthur hesitated before he entered the building, watching Eames's projections fill the station, many blurs of navy blue and white, some townspeople, a man with track marks handcuffed behind the glass doors of the processing room. They casted no second look at Arthur, not that he expected them to, though Eames's projections have been known to be... unpredictable.

He nodded to Eames before slipping into the men's bathroom after Eames. He instinctively checked the stalls for projections, then leaned against the door to stop anyone from entering.

Eames watched Arthur walk into the bathroom behind him, checking the stalls before standing by to watch. He smiled to Arthur in the mirror and began to focus on himself. He stood straighter, holding his head up, eyeing his reflection suspiciously. As he began to copy Jones's mannerisms, resting a hand on the gun belt, running his other over the stubble on his jaw, he could feel a change in the dreamspace. And when he glanced back up into the mirror, he could see his face had changed. He was now blue-eyed and had blond hair. Looking back was Jones.

"Not bad," Arthur replied, rubbing his chin as he examined Eames's handiwork. He had only witnessed the forging process once before, and that was a long time ago.

"Yes, that will do nicely. Now all we have to-" He was cut off as there was a huge bang outside the door. It made Arthur instinctively pressed his back harder against the bathroom door. The voices of the station began to rise and rise. He gave Eames a look. "Eames, what's going on?"

Eames looked up at the door, confusion clear on his forged features. "I have no idea," he said honestly. He had never heard his projections ever cause such a commotion during a practice run. Could it be there was someone else in their dream with them at that moment? He reached down to his belt, pulling the gun from it's holster and clicking off the safety. Nodding to Arthur, he waited in the doorway as Arthur pulled the door open, prepared to take the brunt of whatever was on the other side.

Arthur looked and all of the projections seemed to be running toward the next room, where Arthur could hear above the din of the projections the sound of yelling. He started working toward the noise, pushing projections aside, and he realized that the yelling was being made by two male voices. Getting closer still, he deducted that one voice was American, the other British.

That's when his stomach sank.

"Oh shit." He muttered under his breath. In the processing room, there was Eames's projection of Arthur, yelling at his projection of Eames. That he had apparently brought into the dream. _Oh shit._

Eames entered the room alongside Arthur, coming to the same realization that the projections _were_ the commotion. Arthur seemed worried about which projections were yelling, but Eames couldn't help but laugh. Particularly when his projection of Arthur called the projection of Eames a douche.

So Arthur had been harboring a projection of him? He wondered what that meant exactly, since he knew why he had a projection of Arthur, and his motives were less than innocent. He stood back, dropping his gun back into it's holster, not worried about what was happening before them. "A douche? Hmm."

Arthur turned a rather impressive shade of red, and then cringed as his projection of Eames called projection Arthur a 'bloody wanker', and then continued on to yell at him about how all the times he's tried to drop hints about how he feels and how Arthur just ignores him, and leads him on, and can't he at least fucking acknowledge him once in awhile?

Arthur raised his eyebrows and glanced at the real Eames.

Eames watched the scene before them, amused at Arthur's embarrassment. He glanced over at Arthur when his projection of Arthur responded. He yelled at projection Eames about how maybe he'd know that he _had_ acknowledged him if he'd just fucking open his eyes.

"Is there something I'm missing about you, Arthur?" Eames smiled, shaking off his forgery.

Arthur pursed his lips together angrily. "No. Absolutely not." And he yanked his gun out of the holster and promptly shot himself in the head.

Eames sighed, watching Arthur's limp form fall to the ground. Things were just getting interesting, but Arthur obviously didn't want to face what had been going on before them. He leaned down and picked up the gun, pressing it to his temple and pulled the trigger.

\- - -

Eames woke up in the hotel room, just in time to see Arthur packing his bag and stalking out of the room. It took him a moment to register what was happening, but he reacted quickly enough, jumping from the bed, and moving after Arthur. He grabbed the point man's arm, turning him to face him. "Arthur?" He asked, his expression showing the confusion he felt. What was really going on with him?

Arthur tried to jerk away from Eames, but his hold was more solid than he’d estimated. A fleeting instinct told him to punch or otherwise violently remove himself from Eames's powerful grip. He didn't want to talk about what happened. He didn't know why it happened, nor did he ever want to talk about why it happened, at least with Eames. Arthur flat out refused to meet Eames's eyes, keeping his gaze focused on the opposite wall.

"What?" He muttered in reply.

Eames watched the way Arthur refused to look him in the eye, the way he tried to shift free of his grip. He hadn't expected Arthur to react the way he did, to try and leave after they got out of the dream. Eames had run after Arthur to confront him, question him, but instead he found himself more concerned than angry. "Are you okay?" He asked, looking down into Arthur's face, trying to get him to meet his eyes.

"I'm fine, Eames. Let me go, please." He replied quietly, his words short, clipped, and heavy, like rocks falling on cement. The knuckles on his other hand were turning white from where he was gripping the PASIV's handle in an iron vice, like he was trying to mimic Eames's grip on his arm.

Eames didn't release his grip just yet. He continued to watch Arthur closely, trying to decide what exactly was going on in his mind, what he was hiding from him. "You don't look like someone who's fine, Arthur." He tried to mask the disappointment in his face, wondering, himself, why he was so disappointed in Arthur's reaction. It's not like the point man had ever opened up to him before, why would he start now? He relaxed the grip he had on Arthur's arm, but he didn't let go.

Arthur sighed deeply through his nose, relieved that Eames had loosened his grip on his arm. But he didn't jerk it away. Why didn't he jerk it away? Because he thought it would be rude and uncalled for? Because he was fairly impressed that Eames actually seemed to care about his well being, or at least was really good at pretending he was? Why was he asking himself questions? He shook his head a little. _Dear god, is this pathetic._

"I assure you, I am," he replied, finally raising his eyes to meet Eames's gaze. "I apologize for bringing that projection in. It won't happen again."

Eames sighed, realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere tonight with Arthur. "Arthur..." He started, unsure of how to respond to that. "You know, I brought my own projection of you into the dream too." He looked away for a moment, before releasing Arthur's arm.

"I'm sorry," he added, looking back into Arthur's face. He really was, even if Arthur didn't believe him. Or trust him.

"It was your dream, I was the one who intruded," Arthur replied quietly. He let his arm fall back into place by his side, his shirt a little wrinkled from where Eames had been holding him still. He straightened his sleeve out instinctively, and gave Eames a small nod. "I'll see you here tomorrow. Goodnight."

Eames turned around and started to walk back to the bed where his things still set. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," he responded quietly.

\- - -

Arthur looked up at the grey sky absently, watching a few snowflakes drift down and flutter to the ground around him. The early afternoon was chilly and bit at Arthur through his thick pea coat. Arthur had never enjoyed being cold, and they were in the mountains, where it was at least ten degrees colder than if they'd be less above sea level.

The few snowflakes kissed the grey asphalt, and Cobb, Arthur and Eames gathered around the side of the road, looking at one space next to the road. There was nothing interesting about the space to the naked eye, but it meant a great deal to Jones, who was accompanying them, but standing a little farther away from the spot and the other men.

Jones was fidgeting as usual, and his glances at the spot were nervous. "This is where Miss Henry reported the squad car pulled her over and..." He paused, swallowed, continued.  
"Jack got out of the car, and commenced to rape her at gunpoint."

Eames watched Jones closely, seeing how he kept nervously moving his hands from his holster, to his pockets and back again. He kept glancing at the section of road where the crime had happened, but only quickly - as if he felt that if he looked too long he may see something he didn't want to. Eames looked longer, though, examining the scene, the way the grass was cut, the large rocks piled in the ditch, the broken glass on the pavement. He could see tire tracks in the mud alongside the road and he wondered if they came from the police car or another motorist since.

Eames walked back over to Jones, who was avoiding looking his way. "Do you have a copy of the report from the incident on you?" Jones nodded in response and walked over to his vehicle and produced a manila folder. Eames took the folder and started flipping through the file, photos of the scene, and a written statement from both Winchester and the victim. "Why isn’t there any information from the squad car's GPS in this report?"

"His GPS was down that night. They don't have any information for the entire evening." Jones said flatly.

Eames frowned at Jones's words. "Convenient." He flipped through the packet one more time before handing it back to Jones. "Okay, so it pretty much looked exactly like it does now, here. Down to the last tire track in the mud. So, setting the scene shouldn't be difficult at all."

He walked down the street again, to the side of the road where the incident occurred, following the path that Winchester would have taken that night when he pulled the victim over. When he reached the end of the sequence, he stopped in front of Arthur and Cobb. He watched Arthur when he spoke, trying to meet his eyes, but not getting anywhere. Arthur simply kept avoiding his gaze. Finally he sighed and turned to Cobb, "Any other questions, boys?"

"I have a few questions for Mr. Jones." Cobb said. His eyes were very stern and no-nonsense. So far in this job Cobb had been very, very no-nonsense. Ever since Phillippa was born, he had been taking his role of father figure very seriously, taking it over to his work as well. Recently Arthur felt like Dom was _his_ father too.

He turned to Arthur. "I need to convince him to lend us a few documents for the first level.  
He said in a low voice. "I need you and Eames to go back to the hotel. Take the packet with you. Attempt to recreate the incident, with Eames acting as Ms. Henry. In laymen's terms, rehearse."

Arthur's eyes went wide and immediately opened his mouth to protest. "But don't you need me to go and get those records-"

"No. Not right now." Cobb cut him off. "I need you to lay low and rehearse that scene." When Arthur didn't move, he continued. "Now go." Cobb turned from Arthur and walked away, placing a hand on Jones's shoulder, starting to question him.

If Arthur was anything but professional, he would have groaned. Two of the last things he wanted right now: 1.) To be alone with Eames, and 2.) To go back in the dreamscape with Eames.

\- - -

Eames followed Arthur back to the Jeep, sliding into the passenger seat. He glanced over to Arthur, seeing the muscles in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth. He obviously wasn't pleased with their assignment. He chose to ignore Arthur's body language, trying to keep things light. As Arthur put the Jeep into gear and started up the road, he asked, "So, just you and I again?"

Arthur's only response was his slamming the car into third, his knuckles white on the shifter.

Eames resigned himself to staring at the scenery that Arthur flew by. Clearly he wasn't over their confrontation from the day before. Eames wondered what exactly had unnerved Arthur so much that he didn't want to even talk to him about business. He had ideas, but he wasn't entirely certain. Arthur always kept everything so guarded.

After several minutes of silence had gone by, Eames decided to chance another look at Arthur. His jaw wasn't clenched any more, at least, but Eames noticed that his body was still tense, alert. Like he expected something to happen at any moment. Eames decided to try the work tactic again. "How far, exactly, does Cobb expect us to replay the scene?"

 _I'm not going to let this interfere with my work. I'm not going to let this interfere with my work. Inhale. Exhale._ Arthur finally allowed the muscles in his jaw to relax, and he let out a small sigh, made almost inaudible by the Jeep's motor.

He set his shoulders further back into the car seat, but still kept a firm hand on the shifter. "He wants us to set it up and reenact what we're going to show in the dream. So, we set up the scene, the car, and you have to forge Miss Henry. Winchester will fill in the projection that rapes her, that's how we're going to find out if Winchester is guilty: if he is, his subconscious will fill in the rapist as himself, if he's not, he'll fill it in as any average man."

He thoughtfully chewed on the pad of his thumb. "Right before the rapist starts in on Miss Henry, if the rapist is NOT Winchester, I enter the scene in a patrol car, with Winchester. That's when Winchester takes the rapist down. Then, you have to... uh..." He pauses.

"We're not sure about this yet, but I think you might have to _seduce_ Winchester as Jones, in the next dream level, _my_ dream, where we will make Winchester to think it is his, and he will put the rest of the information Jones wants about the crime in there. And we will have to extract it."

Eames listened to Arthur explain the plan that he and Cobb had put together, glad that he was at least capable of communication, if only about the job. When Arthur mentioned that he would be forging another person, Eames was thrown off for a moment. He waited until Arthur was finished talking, before bringing it up, though, smirking at Arthur's obvious discomfort about him seducing Winchester.

"So, I'm taking on two forgeries?" He asked, trying not to sound upset. "Why wasn't this brought to my attention earlier?"

Arthur's expression was slightly apologetic as he scratched his ear. He turned the Jeep into the parking lot of the hotel, where snow was starting to dapple the grey asphalt.

"This is only a recent development. If you don't think you can handle it...?"

"No," Eames cut in, unbuckling as the car came to a stop. "I can handle it. I just like to be made aware of what a job entails beforehand."

He paused to consider what he was going to have to do with the forgeries. "Do we have a file on Miss Henry I can read over? I haven't even seen a photo of her." He ran his thumb over his lip, thinking. "I really won't have to do too much for her character, I would think. It's not like he knew her..." He trailed off, turning to Arthur, "He didn't know her. Did he?"

"Jones says that Winchester and Henry never met or had any connections in their lives before he was arrested. I have a photo of her. It shouldn't be hard to forge her... she doesn't have any extremely unique features. Pale skin. Dark hair. Flat face. Thin. I don't think you'll have any problem."

Eames nodded as Arthur described Miss Henry. At least they hadn't known each other, that made this forge much easier than the other he had to perform.

Arthur walked briskly to the hotel and let himself in. _God, it was freezing in this god damn town. This job couldn't end fast enough._

Arthur stepped into the hotel room and cringed. The hotel room was just as freezing! "What the hell," He muttered, striding over to the heater. He made a frustrated noise. "Damn thing's busted!"

Eames followed Arthur across the room, watching the point man kick the heater in frustration. When Arthur moved away, he slid off the side panel and started checking various connections, before finding the problem. He tightened a loose wire and replaced the panel. As he did so, the heater clicked on and began throwing heat. He smirked at Arthur, standing up. "Better?"

Arthur grunted, reaching up and rubbing his arms with his gloved hands, walking away from the heater and flipping open the briefcase on the bed. In his peeved state, he realized that no one had closed the door to the hotel room. A gust of wind blew in and caught many of the papers in Arthur's briefcase. They were lifted into the air into a whirlwind of white that was not snow. Arthur swore loudly, and began to grab haphazardly at the papers flying around him.

Eames walked over and closed the door before any of the papers flew out of the room, then moved to help Arthur. He picked up the pages, not bothering to organize them into any discernible order. He got down on his knees to pull a couple sheets out from under the desk, then moved to stand up. Only he didn't make it very far, because as he stood up, Arthur was leaning down beside him, their heads colliding in the process. Eames dropped back down to the floor, "Fuck. OW," he shouted, "God damn it, Arthur." He glared back up at Arthur, holding his head.

"Ow! Shit!" Arthur fell into a sitting position onto the bed. He rubbed at his forehead where their heads had crashed together. He glanced back down at Eames, keeping one eye closed while he waited for the pain to recede. "Sorry, sorry. You all right?"

As the pain dissipated, Eames nodded. "Fine," he muttered, standing up, watching Arthur rub his own forehead in pain. "Do you need Mummy to come kiss it and make it better?" He winked at Arthur before leaning back down and picking up the pages he dropped. He placed them on the briefcase and took a seat beside Arthur on the bed.

Arthur rolled his eyes and elbowed Eames in the side after he sat down. It was meant to be painful, and it was, to an extent; but it did seem to be almost... playful. He took the papers that Eames had placed on the briefcase and leafed through them quickly, and pulled out a photo of the woman that Eames must forge. "There you go. Can you manage that?"

Eames felt a smile form on his lips when Arthur elbowed him, but he quickly hid it. He took the photo Arthur handed him and examined it. The woman was slight, almost frail looking. Her dark hair hung limply around her face, much like her too-large clothing on her slim frame. Self confidence was clearly lacking with her, obvious in the way she held herself and dressed. Eames glanced over at Arthur, who was looking at him expectantly. "I can handle this." He handed the image back to Arthur and slid back on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "Ready when you are, captain."

Arthur leaned back and grabbed the PASIV from the other side of the bed, plopping it on top of the covers and setting it up quickly. When Eames held out his wrist, Arthur carefully plugged him in, giving him a sharper jab than normal, which was accompanied by a small, smug grin.

"I'm setting up the spot where the crime will take place. Start forging Miss Henry immediately. I'll be along with the patrol car in a moment."

\- - -

Eames closed his eyes when Arthur pressed the button on the PASIV and he woke up on the side of the road they had just come from. He glanced over and saw that Arthur had remembered to add Miss Henry's vehicle. He walked over to it and glanced into the window, watching his face as he created the forgery. After a moment, he was looking into the reflection of a young woman, thin, and insecure; not the confident, muscled man he had been moments before.

Eames opened the car door and slid into the seat, buckling the seat belt. Preparing to reenact the scene from the beginning. He started the car and pulled into the road, just in time to hear a police car's siren sound. Eames pulled back onto the side of the road and watched the police car pull behind him in the rear view mirror. "Hear we go," he whispered to himself.

Arthur pulled the patrol car up beside Miss Henry's old green Volvo and flipped the sirens off. He got out, dressed in the Kings County police uniform, even wearing the hat. He looked so natural in the uniform, and Eames wondered for a fleeting moment if Arthur had chosen the wrong profession.

He walked up to the Volvo and peered into the window. "Not bad. That'll do nicely. Come on out and I'll walk you through the... uh, scene."

Eames opened his car door, standing up, he had to look up to see into Arthur's face. A face that was full of tension and discomfort. Arthur wasn't used to playing these sort of roles. "Is there a problem, officer?" He asked, hiding an inappropriate smirk. He closed the door behind him and shouted in surprise when Arthur grabbed his arm suddenly, his fingers digging into his skin, hurting him. "What - what are you doing?" He asked in alarm, wondering just how far Arthur was going to take it.

"Th-this is going to happen to you in this scene. The projection is going to be incredibly strong." Arthur began, his voice unsure at first and then slightly gaining confidence. With a rapid movement, he had Eames's arm twisted behind his back. "This is a test. You should know how it's going to feel."

With another fast motion, Arthur used his forearm to shove Eames forcefully, stomach-first onto the hood of the car. It was extremely police-like and though it was unsure, it was obvious Arthur was mimicking a police move.

When Eames heard the nervousness in Arthur's voice, he felt his own nerves calm. Arthur was just following their plan. He allowed Arthur to go through the motions, only resisting slightly when Arthur twisted his arm behind his back. When Arthur shoved him down against the hood of the car, Eames grinned to himself, feeling Arthur's body press against his. As Arthur attempted to cuff him, he shrugged off his forge.

"Couldn't wait to pin me down. Could you, Arthur?" He tried to turn his head to see Arthur's face, a smirk playing on his own.

Arthur responded, his mouth pressed in a thin line, by shoving Eames harder into the car hood. "This isn't a game, Eames," He hissed, snapping the handcuffs on his wrists none too gently. "You can't keep treating everything like it's some game. Something that needs to be won."

Eames coughed, Arthur knocking the wind out of him momentarily. It seemed he had hit a nerve. He felt the cuffs clip in place on his wrists, tightening enough that they bit into his skin. "Mmm..." He responded, a small smile still on his lips, "I didn't know you liked it rough."

Arthur made a frustrated noise and leaned forward into the police hold, putting strain on Eames's joints and making the handcuffs dig painfully into his back. "It's always a fucking game with you. You think I'm kidding. I'll fucking show you who's joking." His hand went back onto his belt and there was a click as he undid the snap that held the nightstick.

Eames stilled suddenly, listening to Arthur's words, the anger behind them. It surprised him. He hadn't intended to push Arthur so far so as to make him so angry - so violent. He couldn't say that he didn't like it, though. It gave him a rush to make Arthur feel anything. Irritation. Anger. He wasn't picky; he enjoyed every emotion. Eames tried to move his hands, but Arther had a hard grip on him, strengthened by his anger. He heard the click on Arthur's belt and his mind reeled. Was he going for his gun? What was he doing? Had he really pushed him that far? He struggled again against Arthur, his heart racing.

There was a noise of the stick sliding out of it's leather holder when a couple of flashing lights in the distance caught Eames's eye, and Arthur froze. It got closer quickly, and the nightstick went back into it's holder with a fast click. The car pulled up to where they were, but Arthur hadn't moved from his hold on Eames against the hood of the car.

It was another patrol car, identical to the one Arthur had rode in on. The door opened and Eames choked.

 _Arthur_ got out of the other patrol car, dressed in the police uniform but missing the hat. His face was placid until he looked up and it went slack with shock at seeing an exact doppelganger holding Eames against the car hood.

Eames stared dumbly at the new Arthur that had just arrived on the scene. He had been certain that the Arthur behind him was the real one, but now he wasn't so sure. The new Arthur looked at them in shock and confusion, pretty much the same thing Eames was feeling. Eames went to stand up, but found the other Arthur was still holding him down.

"Wait..." He said, confusion apparent in his voice. "Arthur?" He tried to glance behind him, but couldn't twist enough to see. "But... Which?" He was truly lost.

The hatless Arthur quickly regained his composure. "What the fuck? Eames, is that your projection? I thought we were going to keep them out!" He gestured towards the Arthur holding Eames down angrily, his ears turning red.

"Look who's fucking talking!" The voice directly behind Eames yelled. "You're the fucking projection!" Hat-wearing Arthur's voice was indignant and just as angry as hatless Arthur.

He released his hold on Eames, snapping the handcuffs off him none too gently. "I managed to keep my projection out, why couldn't you?" He said, now speaking to Eames.

Eames stood up, rubbing his wrists. Even though the handcuffs were only on a short time, he could see red marks where they were cutting into his skin. He stood back from the pair of Arthurs, his eyes darting back and forth between the two as they argued, his confusion mounting with each word.

He had been certain earlier that the first Arthur was the real Arthur. He hadn't thought he had brought his projection into this dream. When the second Arthur appeared, though, he wasn't so sure. The second Arthur had acted just like he would have expected Arthur to act in that situation. Which, now that he thought about it, may be a clue as to which Arthur was real. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head as he thought. But, Arthur wouldn't forget his hat, would he? He was a perfectionist in every aspect, down to the uniform. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became.

"Arthur?" He asked, wondering if they'd even hear him over their arguing. When both Arthurs turned to him, staring daggers in his direction, he found himself suddenly speechless.

Suddenly, hat-wearing Arthur turned back to his counterpart and threw a fast punch, knocking the other Arthur square in the cheek, and he stumbled backward, grunting in pain, before he composed himself and launched his own attack back on the other.

The hat went flying. Fists were flying, and the two grappled against each other, and before Eames could do anything, one had given the other a bloody nose while he himself had an eye that was already swelling shut.

Eames stared in shock for a moment as the two Arthurs began to fight with each other, before he could even process what was happening before him. He was certain, though, that this was the first time he'd ever seen a man kick his own ass.

After a few moments had passed and the pair were both worse for wear, but still going at it, he moved to stop them.

"Arthur." He said sternly. Neither one seemed to hear him. He stepped between the two men, then, pressing a hand to each man's chest.

"ARTHUR." He said louder, pushing the two men apart, both still struggling to reach the other. "THAT'S ENOUGH." He shoved them both in opposite directions, forcing them to stand apart on either side of him.

He watched them carefully as they both stared through him, their eyes narrowed at each other, neither one bothering to clean themselves up. He reached a hand around his back, his fingers bumping against the handle of the gun he had kept there. "Now, somebody please tell me what the hell is going on." He wrapped his fingers around the gun. If they wouldn't talk, then at the very least he could threaten them with his gun. The real Arthur wouldn't flinch.

"What do you think is going on?" One Arthur cried, the one with the black eye. He opened his arms in a wide gesture. "He's a projection! And he's fucking beating the shit out of me!"

"Goddamnit, Eames, can't you tell the real me from a projection?" The other Arthur replied loudly, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, smearing it with blood. "Get rid of it!"

"Please, allow me!" The black eyed Arthur yanked his gun from his holster, and pointed it at the other, and his finger began to pull the trigger.

Eames watched one Arthur wipe blood across his hand, while the other Arthur pointed a gun at him. He threw his arm up and knocked the gun from Arthur's hand, watching it land somewhere in the field behind them. "Nobody is going to get rid of anyone here." He knew that if the real Arthur would die, the dream would just crumble and they'd just wake up in the hotel room. But he needed to know who was real here and why this was happening.

Eames couldn't just make his projection of Arthur disappear, because he was doing it subconsciously. Which was why he was even there in the first place. Eames sighed, _fuck it_. He walked over to the Arthur with the bloody nose and grabbed his face in his hands, pressing his lips to the other man's. He was screwed either way, he had reasoned. At least this way he'd get some answers.

This Arthur promptly responded by shoving Eames away roughly and making a strangled noise. "Eames, what the _hell_?"

Eames stumbled back, nearly knocking into the other Arthur. He stared back at the Arthur he had kissed, his lips still tingling, a smile forming on his lips. "Worth a shot?" He said innocently.

The Arthur with the bloody nose made a loud, frustrated noised and rolled his eyes. "Goddamnit. This dream's all gone to hell." He yanked out his gun and quickly shot the other Arthur, and then Eames before Eames could even open his mouth to protest.

\- - -

Eames woke up on the bed, moments before Arthur did. He pulled the IV from his arm, dropping it onto the PASIV, before rubbing his eyes. He heard Arthur move beside him, choosing not to look at the other man. "What the hell just happened?" He asked, his voice quiet, confused.

Arthur stood up quickly. If Eames could see him, he'd only see his back, and his fists balled so tightly they were turning white. His ears were also red. "I don't fucking know. Why don't you tell _me_?" He hissed, his words dripping with venom.

Eames stood up and turned to Arthur, "I didn't bring the projection in with me. Well," he paused, thinking. "Not consciously." He walked around the bed, to face Arthur.

The lines in Arthur's forehead were prominent and he looked furious. He crossed his arms in front of his chest in a defensive manner when Eames moved to stand in front of him, and he wouldn't meet his eyes, instead choosing to look at the bed beside him.

"Do you think this is a game?" He growled. "What's going to happen when we're not practicing?"

Eames reached out, touching his hand lightly to Arthur's arm. He wanted him to look up, to look into his face. He needed to tell Arthur, but how could he admit that he couldn't control it, that Arthur haunted his every dream. That he saw him whenever he closed his eyes, whether he wanted to or not.

"Arthur," Eames said quietly, subdued, very different from his normal tone. He wasn't sure what to say or even how to say it. But he needed to know that Arthur would listen.

Arthur flinched and instinctively pulled back, but not all the way. And just like that, he was not angry anymore. Now he was confused. Now he felt strange. He didn't like it. He wanted to be in control. But he wasn't.

He wouldn't meet Eames's gaze, but he stood stark still, listening to the other man breath and the heater click and hum.

Eames watched Arthur flinch and pull from him. He hadn't expected Arthur to keep the contact, but the way that Arthur had moved from him, even slightly, was disheartening. Eames continued to look into Arthur's face, even if the other man was avoiding his gaze. "I'm sorry," he started, watching Arthur carefully. "You're in every one of my dreams."

He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. "I thought I could control it. But... I can't."

Arthur listened intently. There were lines in his forehead and he was frowning. Distressed would be a good word for his expression. Even if he knew how to properly and politely react to this kind of confession, he probably wouldn't do so anyway.

He was up in the goddamn mountains, where it was as cold as a witch's teat, in the middle of bumblefuck county, nowheresville, where the heater was as reliable as the two-pronged electrical outlets. He was exhausted and Cobb had been a fairly big jerk lately, and everything about this job seemed _off_. He just got beat up by himself and now his coworker is confessing... something to him that at least for now he could've kept to himself.

It was too much.

He shook his head and walked quickly over to the coat rack, and grabbed it off the rack. He saw Eames make a move of protest in the corner of his eye.

"I suggest you find a way to control it. Or else we'll find someone else." He said. _I concede_.

He opened the door and was gone.

Eames heard Arthur's words and they felt like a punch to the gut. He watched Arthur walk out the door, leaving him alone in the hotel room, the sudden silence deafening. _Fuck._

He sat back down on the bed, dropping his head in his hands and took a deep breath. He had to control his projection. He couldn't believe he had let it get this far. He couldn't even tell the difference between his projection and the real Arthur any more.

Eames was going to fix this tonight. The way Arthur had spoke to him made his chest ache, he didn't want to hear that tone again. He leaned back on the bed, pulling an IV from the PASIV that Arthur had left there, setting the clock for five minutes. He slid the IV into a vein and reached out to press the button, releasing the sedative.

He closed his eyes and opened them again on the same road, facing his projection of Arthur, still in the police uniform. He swallowed hard, it was now or never.

\- - -

To say Cobb was angry with Arthur would be an understatement.

Eames was sure the entire town heard their yelling match outside the hotel, their voices echoing against the evening snowstorm. _"Where the fuck were you? You were gone for hours!" "Jesus Christ, Cobb, can't I even go and investigate something on my own for a few hours? Why does everything I do have to be under your jurisdiction? Do you think I can't do my fucking job?" "I expect you to do your job and that includes telling me what you do!" "I don't fucking need this-"_

Among other such strings of accusations and obscenities. That is, before Arthur stormed off and got his own hotel room.

When Cobb came back in, Eames saw his face was tomato red and he was shaking with rage. The two men didn't say a word to each other, they just went to sleep. If they slept at all. Mostly they just laid there in the dark, stewing in anger and hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Arthur showed up at their door, dressed and ready to work, at 10AM sharp. His casual appearance after the heated argument from the night before shocked even Cobb, who knew Arthur on a very personal level. But the job had to go on.

So they continued to work. Arthur would not make eye contact with anyone. Eames overhead Cobb murmur to Arthur, "This isn't over. We're going to talk about this, later."

Arthur just shrugged.

Eames tried to ignore the argument going on between Cobb and Arthur, focusing instead on his own problem. He had went into his dream the night before intending to rid himself of his Arthur projection. He had done all that he knew to do, and he hoped it had worked. While he prepped himself for the job, Eames kept an inner mantra, telling himself that he didn't need the projection, that Arthur was here, _now_.

Eames was flipping his totem in his palm nervously, watching the other two men carefully move around the room, preparing for the extraction. Arthur was checking the PASIV, ensuring that it had enough IVs and sedative to get them through, keeping his eyes centered on his work, ignoring everyone else in the room. Cobb was flipping through several pages in a file, talking quietly to himself, committing the last of their plan to memory. Eames had already had everything he needed. He had spent the night, after his dream, practicing his forgeries, copying mannerisms he had remembered and memorizing photographs.

While Eames was watching Arthur bend over the PASIV, he heard Cobb clear his throat. He reluctantly turned from the point man to Cobb, listening for instructions.

Arthur straightened, but did not turn around as Cobb began to talk, fixing a wire that was in his hands.

Cobb shook his head a little and continued.

"Tomorrow night we will perform dream sequence one. Our ultimate goal is to discover if Winchester is guilty of the crime of raping Miss Henry. You are familiar with the sequence. The setting is at night, along Laurel Road, exactly like the crime. Winchester will 'awaken' near the scene of the crime with me. Eames is forging Miss Henry, and Winchester will fill in the projection playing the rapist while he and I are watching."

Cobb shifted the papers over on the bed in front of him, his sleeves rolled up and the circles under his eyes dark.

"If he projects himself as the rapist, there is no need for the second planned dream sequence, because that means he’s guilty. If the projection is a random stranger, or if he projects someone he knows, dream sequence two will commence. The town is the setting, and our goal here is to extract why and how, the details of why Winchester is taking the fall for this rape if he's innocent, or if the rapist turns out to be someone specific, who it is and why he apparently framed Winchester."

He gave Eames a quick glance before going back to his papers. "During dream sequence two, Eames, you will need to forge Jones and attempt to engage Winchester in activities that will result in a kind of... tension. If we can apply to Winchester's subconscious an easier method of admitting his sexuality in reality, it will be easier to get him to admit why he accepted the accusations of the crime."

Arthur bristled a little, his grip on the wire tightening just a bit, but it was minuscule, when Cobb mentioned Eames forging Jones. Cobb didn't notice.

Cobb rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Further details will be explained later, but there is the basic structure." He stood and shifted his coat back onto his shoulders. "I'm going to meet Jones. Arthur - " Arthur's head snapped up. Cobb paused.

"Never mind."

The lines in Arthur's forehead appeared almost instantaneously.

After Cobb gave Eames a non-urgent task to do, he left.

Cobb hadn't noticed Arthur's body language when he spoke about his forging Jones, but Eames did. He saw the way Arthur's shoulders tensed and only reluctantly loosened. Eames knew that this whole situation was bringing out things that Arthur had rather left hidden. Unfortunately for Arthur, Eames wanted to poke at those things and draw them out. He wanted to know what Arthur tried to hide from him, what was so important that he didn't want Eames to know.

Eames stood up, stretching, grabbing his keys off the bedside table. Cobb had wanted him to drive around town, take in the sites one last time before going into the dream. He turned back to Arthur, who was still feigning interest in the neatly wrapped IV tubes of the PASIV. "Coming, Arthur?" He asked, nonchalantly, not wanting to scare him off.

"Mmm, no. I don't think so." Arthur replied curtly, kneeling down next to the PASIV and opened the shell to expose the inner workings of the machine, a sea of colored wire and silver and black.

Eames nodded, watching Arthur open the PASIV and continue ignoring him. He wondered what was going on in Arthur's mind. And whether he did the right thing in telling Arthur about his trouble with the projection. He didn't like the silent treatment Arthur was giving him, though he was certain he deserved it. Regardless, it was done and he had to deal with the aftermath.

"Well," Eames spoke, standing in the doorway, "I'm going to head out, if you need anything, you know my number." He watched Arthur's back for a moment before turning and closing the door. He stopped outside the room, staring off at the snow coated parking lot. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing a low sigh. How the hell was he going to fix _this_?

Eames stood there for around ten minutes. A soft click was heard behind him, and Arthur emerged from behind the door, his peacoat wrapped around him. He shut the door behind him and leaned on it a little, looking in Eames's direction, but not necessarily at him.

"I thought you were leaving?"

Eames glanced up when Arthur walked out of the room. He hadn't planned on standing outside the door as long as he had. Eames tried to meet Arthur's eyes, but he was avoiding his gaze. He rubbed his hands together in the cold, wishing he had brought a pair of gloves with him. "I was," he started, "Did you want to ride with me?"

"Yeah, okay," He said, pulling his collar closer around his neck. _It's so fucking cold here_. He followed Eames to the car and got into the passenger's seat. The black leather of the Jeep was like ice, and the cold bit at Arthur even through his clothing.

Eames got in beside him and Arthur noticed he was still rubbing his hands together. He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out his black leather driving gloves, and held them out to Eames.

"Here." He said simply.

Eames offered a half smile, taking the gloves, pulling them on his hands. They were a bit snug, but warm. "Thanks," he said, turning on the car. He reached down on the center panel and pressed a button, turning on the seat warmer for the passenger seat.

He pulled the car out of the lot, turning down the recently plowed roads, heading toward town.

Arthur watched the white dusted scenery as Eames drove the Jeep into town, his elbow resting on the window ledge and his fingers curled up by his chin. The seat's warmth spread through to his bones and it felt wonderful, and for the first time since he arrived at this godawful town, he was completely warm. How had he not noticed the seat warmers before?

He only sounds were the thrum of the Jeep's engine and the splash of the puddles of melted snow when the wheels went through them. At first, Arthur hated himself for tagging along, he felt incredibly awkward and he couldn't stop playing Eames's words in his head.

 _You're in every one of my dreams._

He was jostled out of his thoughts as Eames pulled the Jeep in front of a row of town buildings. He sat forward a little, stretching his back and grunting a little.

"Where are we?"

Eames pulled the Jeep into park and glanced at the buildings, looking for a name. He pointed to a small bar, tucked between two larger stores. "There," he said, "Alpine Bar and Grille." Eames opened his door and slid out, stepping into a small pile of snow. "This is where they go after work to unwind. I figured this would be the best place to have the second level."

Eames led Arthur to the bar, two small windows sat on either side of a door, both filled with several neon signs advertising local beers. Eames leaned forward, opening the worn wooden door for the point man. "After you."

Arthur thanked him and entered the small, dank bar. It was fairly barren except for two middle-aged men at the bar, drinking beer and watching football on a small bunny-ear TV above the alcohol shelves, and an old couple eating fish sandwiches on one of the small oak tables that was littered around the pool table.

It smelled like smoke, fried food and booze. The floor looked like it hadn't been swept in days.

Arthur rolled his eyes a little and looked at his watch. Noon. Well, he might as well have a drink, as long as he had chosen to spend the afternoon with a man who had divulged such a personal confession to him yesterday. He still had no idea what or how to think about it.

Arthur went to the bar immediately and scanned the row of bottles. All beer bottles, of course. He cringed at the beer choices, but ended up choosing a local lager.

Eames asked for the same and once they got their drinks, he led Arthur to a table tucked in the corner of the bar. The walls of the bar were covered with framed pictures and newspaper clippings about local sports teams and celebrities. By their table was an article about a local high school baseball team winning a state championship, alongside that a picture of the winning team, a large trophy in front of them and large grins on their dirty faces.

Eames glanced over at Arthur after they took their seats, only to find the other man studying the article closely. Eames looked it over once more, his eyes catching on two names listed under the team photo. Eames pointed to the names, drawing Arthur's attention. "They've known each other much longer than I had thought."

Arthur took a swig of the beer after they sat down, and it wasn't bad. He set the mug down on the cardboard coaster and suddenly had nothing to do with his eyes, and he certainly did not want to look at Eames. He would've never noticed the names on the article if Eames hadn't pointed it out.

Jack Winchester and Charlie Jones. They looked as if they were 16 years old in the photo. He sat back a little bit, startled to find them both in the photo. Judging by the hints he'd garnered about the two being more than just cops, he was a little startled to find they had grown up here. None of their information had pointed to that.

"Mmm. They must have a very deep-set relationship, if they've been friends for so long," He said, lightly curling his hand around the perspiring mug of liquid.

"It appears so. It's going to make this forge more difficult." Eames took a long drink of his beer, setting the mug on the table, ignoring the coaster.

With nothing more to talk about, Eames ended up sitting quietly and staring at the words circling his coaster, an advertisement for a local beer. While he had expected Arthur to be more distant than normal, he hadn't expected the silence and the awkwardness that he was experiencing. And he hadn't expected not being able to fill it properly with the small talk he'd always been so good at. Eames sighed, wondering why he had invited Arthur along after all, if this was all they were going to do.

Arthur exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck, half of his mug gone. He wished the staticky noise of the television set and murmurs of the group of men watching sports was louder. Had there been a reason why he had gone with Eames? He wasn't so sure anymore.

"Uh. Eames," He started, raising his eyes and forcing himself to look at the forger. Eames looked tired, circles lining his eyes as he reclined back in his seat with his legs crossed beside the table, trying to look interested in the television across the room. He waited until Eames looked at him, and his face was almost painful to look at.

"Last night... I apologize for the way I behaved."

Eames felt his heart skip a beat when Arthur spoke. An apology was the last thing he had expected from Arthur, yet there it was. "Arthur..." Eames started, unsure of how to respond. Surely he was just as much to blame, unloading all that he had on the other man the night before. Arthur didn't need to know the extent of his problem, yet he still offered it freely like he had wanted to know.

Eames coughed, his mind reeling. "You don't need to apologize. I shouldn't have shared all that I did with you. It was presumptuous of me to expect you to handle my subconscious, to expect you to understand." Eames brought the mug of beer to his mouth, drinking the last of it quickly before setting the empty mug back on the table. "I'm the one who should apologize."

Arthur had drained his mug as well, and pushed it aside, wanting another. Noon. It was noon. He shouldn't. He tried to get the thought off of his mind, crossing his arms and tapping his bottom lip with two fingers. He still had his coat on.

"Let's just... never talk about it again." He said quietly.

Eames nodded, in agreement, "Don't worry, Arthur. I have it under control."

Eames saw Arthur's eyes flick from his empty mug to the bartender. The same thought crossed his mind. _What the hell_. He stood up, carrying their mugs to the counter and asked the bartender for seconds. Carrying the mugs back to their table, Eames smiled at Arthur. "Here's to forgetting," he offered Arthur his mug and raised his in a toast.

Arthur couldn't help but smile a little as well, the corners of his mouth turned up and dimpled, as he raised his glass to meet Eames's and they clinked together. He noted how when Eames smiled, it seemed to light up his entire face- no, no, he wouldn't think about that. He instead flicked his eyes over to the dirty, torn surface of a pool table, taking a long swallow of the next drink, leaving behind trails of white froth down the glass.

But at least he felt better about their situation. They did need to work together, to finish this job, and they couldn't be fighting or... disagreeing, or _acting like jerks_. Arthur's train of thought couldn't help but add that caboose to the end.

Just because he said he didn't want to talk about it didn't mean he wouldn't _think_ about it.

Eames caught the small smile that Arthur let slip and he felt something in him thrill at the sight. He had only seen Arthur smile once or twice, and never because of something he did or said. He usually only garnered Arthur's glares and rolled eyes. Not that he minded. He enjoyed any reaction he could draw from the point man. But his smiles - those were something special.

Eames nodded his head toward the empty pool table, "Care to play a game?"

To his surprise, Arthur nodded, and he walked over, setting his beer on a nearby table and began to rack the balls for play. He stepped back, dropping the rack back on it's shelf, motioning to Arthur. "After you, darling."

He watched Arthur walk over and pick out a cue, smiling to himself. He was confident that he had it in the bag. He was pretty sure that Arthur didn't play pool much, if at all. Eames, on the other hand was experienced. He used to hustle pool along with his many other tricks and forgeries, making a good bit of pocket change along the way.

Arthur had three beers in his stomach at this time, and he was curious as to why he felt a slight floating sensation as he stood up. He was definitely no lightweight. He then remembered he had had nothing to eat since before he and Eames's dream 'accident' the day before.

He tried to shrug the feeling off as he chose a cue and rubbed the tip a little with chalk, watching Eames's almost smug expression. The forger certainly looked confident as he racked the balls up on the tattered old surface of the pool table. Arthur guessed he was fairly talented at this game.

He'd just have to remedy that arrogance.

He bent over the opposite end of the table slightly, lined up his ball neatly, using his thumb for balance, and hit the ball with concise precision and power. The balls scattered, and the four and eleventh balls sank.

Eames watched as Arthur slinked around the table, setting up his shots. After his initial turn, Arthur continued to line up shots and sink balls. He knocked down nearly all the solids before finally missing a shot, leaving only two solids, the five and the two, and the eight ball. Eames let out a low breath. He had underestimated Arthur.

After Arthur stepped back, Eames picked up a cue, chalked it, and started to work on the remaining stripes on the table. He quickly set up and sunk the nine ball, followed shortly by the thirteen. He rounded the table and lined up his shot on the twelve, glancing up at Arthur as the ball sunk into the corner pocket. Arthur's expression was neutral, leaving Eames wondering what exactly he was thinking, his eyes narrowed, concentrating on the table and the shots available.

On his next shot, Eames paid for letting his mind drift from the game. He lined up to knock the fifteen ball into one of the side pockets, but miscalculated. It bounced off the corner and shot off in the opposite direction. Eames cursed out loud, as he walked over to his beer, downing the remainder of the drink. He motioned to the bartender to bring them another round, then turned back to watch Arthur play.

Arthur snorted when Eames missed, a bemused smirk painting his face. He couldn't help it. Eames's exasperation was suddenly extremely amusing, and he actually felt pretty good to be on the giving end of that annoyance, more than he would ever admit.

Arthur cleared his throat, and fought to wipe his face clear of his amusement. As the bartender made up their fourth round, he lined up his shot but he aimed it in a different direction from where his remaining two balls were.

"Five ball, corner pocket. Two ball, side pocket." He said calmly before striking the cue ball sharply. The bank shot was impressive, and the balls fell in their intended pockets with satisfying thuds, the cue ball rolling to a stop. Arthur stood back and tapped his cue on the ground, a look of satisfaction passing his face, then he looked at Eames with an expectant expression.

Eames watched Arthur, impressed at his skill, though frustrated in his underestimation. He rarely played anyone that was better than he was, and playing against Arthur, he remembered why. He was a bit of a sore loser.

Eames walked over and picked up his new glass of beer, taking another drink. He noticed the satisfied look cross Arthur's features and swallowed down his frustration with the beer. "So, darling," Eames began, watching Arthur's face closely, "What's your move?"

Arthur shrugged a little, picking up his mug and taking a long drink. He could see Eames looking at him out of the corner of his eye, watching the other man squirm. He recalled playing poker with Eames and Cobb once. Though he suspected Eames cheated a bit (okay, a lot), Cobb still won, and Eames had been grouchy for the rest of the night.

Losing at pool to me, Arthur suspected, was not making him happy either.

He downed the entire mug in several long swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly with every swallow. He put it down, and watched Eames's surprised expression. He couldn't really taste the beer anymore, but he did know it felt pretty good.

He then confidently went back to the pool table and aimed his shot, "Corner pocket." With a simple flick the eight ball was sunk. He looked up at Eames, smiling confidently.

Eames nodded at Arthur after watching the eight ball drop into the pocket he called, finishing his current glass of beer. He didn't bother hiding his irritation in losing, though it was tempered by the happy look on Arthur's face. _Maybe_ , he thought, he could swallow some of his pride for Arthur's happiness. Or maybe, he'll just throw back another beer and pretend he didn't just lose a game of pool to _Arthur_.

He thought for a moment before walking over to the bar, ordering one last drink. He turned to Arthur, who was following behind him after cleaning up their cues. "One more?" He asked, pulling out a wad of cash, ready to pay for their tab. When Arthur nodded, Eames ordered one for the other man. Eames thanked the bartender, tossing three twenties on the bar, and turning to Arthur.

The room was now sufficiently spinning, and Arthur couldn't remember why he hadn't had anything to eat yet. However, now the smell of food was starting to make him feel sick. The nausea was the only negative feeling in him now, however. The other thoughts buzzing through his head were all happy and warm, just like the warm thrumming pulsing through his limbs.

He watched Eames pay for this round, and it dawns on him that Eames has paid for most of these rounds. _That's really nice of him, especially after the way I acted. Hey, I wonder he's trying to... no. I won't think about that. Wow, it's really hot in here._

He took the mug out of Eames's hands, and started to down it, quickly. He could vaguely hear Eames telling him to slow down, but he was not sure because all the voices in this bar were blurring together. He dropped the mug from his lips, and suddenly his stomach was in his throat.

"Can you hold this?" He asked calmly, and then carefully handed the glass to Eames. Then he was rushing out the door, and he made it to the bushes to the side of the front porch before upchucking everything he'd eaten in the last ten years.

Eames watched Arthur rush out of the building, a smile playing on his lips. Maybe he didn't need that last one after all. Eames dropped the glasses on the bar, nodding to the bartender and thanking him, before following Arthur out the door.

He stumbled upon Arthur almost literally, bent over in the bushes, coughing up the last of the beer. Eames stood by Arthur, rubbing a hand on his back while he finished. After a moment, he glanced at the ground, curiosity getting to him. "Looks about $20 worth in the bushes," he commented, helping Arthur stand up.

Eames had had as many beers as Arthur, but as often as he drank, he'd need a few more to reach Arthur's condition, though he definitely was in no state to drive. Leaving his hand on Arthur's back, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to Arthur. "Feeling better, sunshine?"

Arthur stood shakily, and took the handkerchief from Eames with trembling hands. He wiped his mouth, trying to keep steady, gripping the post of the porch with one hand and letting Eames steady him. "Yeah, kind of," He replied, although he was sure he was drunk and he might be hearing things, because Eames had just called him 'sunshine'.

He paused a moment, and after a few minutes, the trembling left him. He felt better. "Thanks," He looked at Eames and met his eyes, smiling a little. "Sorry I threw up all those rounds you paid for. I could pay you back-"

Eames shook his head, "Don't worry about it." He glanced over at their car, parked in front of the bar. "I doubt either of us is quite able to drive right now. A short walk perhaps? The cool air should help you some." He moved his hand to the small of Arthur's back, steering him to the sidewalk. Thankfully, Arthur followed his lead and they walked along, eyes roaming over the shop windows and other pedestrians.

Arthur nodded, and he pocketed the other man's handkerchief into his back pocket absent-mindedly as he was led along, quite willingly. There had been a change in his face, he looked light and was even wearing a small smile.

"The weather is so nice here. Don't you think?" He said, looking up at the sky.

Eames fought back a snort of laughter with Arthur's words, remembering just hours earlier how he had complained about the weather in the small town. Instead, he agreed with Arthur, offering a smile in return.

He continued to lead Arthur down the sidewalk, noticing the smile stayed on his own lips. He was enjoying their walk, even the occasional stumble when one or the other found an unexpected rock or crack in the sidewalk. Eames watched Arthur laugh and move along the street, happy and carefree. It was completely different from how he normally acted and a total change from the anger and hurt that he had worn on his features the night before. It almost made him want to get Arthur drunk more often.

Arthur shoved his hands into the pockets of his peacoat, and the smile drifted away from his face for a moment, and he looked over at Eames.

"Hey, hey... are you doing all right?"

Eames looked up, shaken from his reverie, when Arthur spoke. Whenever he drank, it always made him more introspective, he hadn't realized that he'd drifted off in thought until Arthur had said something. Eames put on a small smile, "Yeah... I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Arthur replied, and suddenly he was standing in front of Eames, and he was fairly close, at least when it came to Arthur.

"I really am sorry about last night." He said, his tone and eyes sincere, if not a bit slurred. "I know what you said wasn't easy to say. I shouldn't have reacted like that." He raised his arm, and Eames felt a hand wrap around his bicep in what was meant to be a reassuring, firm grip.

Eames returned Arthur's words with a genuine smile, his eyes meeting Arthur's. "While I appreciate it, Arthur," he began, reaching up to rest a hand on top of Arthur's, "An apology isn't necessary."

"I wish I had the courage to say that kind of thing," He murmured, feeling Eames's warm palm slide over his, and he was cold again, shivering a little. Now he was a little chastened, even with his liquid courage could he not find the guts to say what he wanted to. He moved forward a little toward the other man, relishing how the closer he got, the more he could feel his body heat.

Eames closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Arthur move closer to his body, his usual inhibitions gone. When he opened his eyes, he realized Arthur was still staring into his face, his eyes questioning, his body shivering. Eames went to wrap an arm around Arthur, to pull him closer, when he heard a car horn from behind them, breaking them out of the moment. Eames silently cursed, biting his lip. Turning to see who had interrupted them, he noticed Cobb in the driver's seat of the Ford rental.

Arthur would be lying if he said he wouldn't have liked Eames to wrap his arms around him and share some of that heat. He was freezing. Just when he thought Eames was going to do so, the car horn made him visibly jump, and he looked around to see an angry Cobb looking at him over the wheel of the car.

Though he was inebriated, something deep inside him stirred and the panic blossoming in his stomach. The happiness was gone. _Oh shit._

Eames sighed, noticing the look on Cobb's face. So much for the buzz he had built up. He glanced back at Arthur and knew the moment had passed for him too. He wondered momentarily how Arthur was going to act once the alcohol wore off. He hoped that the old Arthur wouldn't reappear, but he didn't have high hopes for it. He could already see Arthur's smile disappear, his eyes narrow, the seriousness that always characterized his face was slowly returning.

Eames looked back to Cobb again and he was motioning them to get into the car, he looked like an angry father, whose children had come home past curfew. All that was missing was the lecture and Eames was certain that wasn't far behind. He sighed again, turning to walk to the car. His hand itched to find it's spot on Arthur's back again, but he stopped himself, not wanting to upset the balance that they had found. This wasn't going to be good.

Eames climbed into the back seat of the car, leaving shotgun for Arthur. He wanted as far away from Cobb and his anger as possible.

After they both were in the car, Cobb hit the gas, flying down the street, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He had expected Arthur and Eames back at the hotel an hour before. He had a lot to go over for the dream the next night, so he went out looking for them. He found them pretty quickly, though, both reeking of alcohol and a lot... closer than he had expected to see.

"What the hell is going on?" He finally spoke, taking a turn so fast the tires chirped on the cold pavement.

"Goddamnit, Cobb," Arthur hissed, grabbing onto the arm rest of the passenger side, his stomach doing somersaults. _I will not throw up in the rental. I will not throw up in the rental._ "Slow down! Are you trying to kill us?"

When Cobb responded with an even more furious look, Arthur fell quiet.

"We were getting to know the bar that Jones and Winchester used to frequent. That's it." He replied quietly, and he can't make himself look at Cobb. Is this what he'd been reduced to? Another one of Cobb's children who had misbehaved?

Eames was sitting in the back seat, his gaze fixed on the floor as Cobb jerked the car around every god damn turn in town. He was trying his hardest not to lose his beer all over Cobb's rental, but it seemed like Cobb was intent on doing just that. Eames glanced up at Cobb for a moment, regretting it almost instantly, his stomach churned traitorously. "Cobb, can you just _slow down_ for a bloody..." But he couldn't finish his sentence, because at that moment, his beer decided it wasn't staying down a second longer.

Cobb glanced back at Eames when he heard him heaving. "Eames?! What the fuck?" He slammed on the brakes, pulling on the side of the road. "You do know this is a rental, right?"

Eames coughed roughly, clearing his throat. "Well, you're not getting that deposit back."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and looked back a little bit, honestly surprised that Eames was retching in the back seat. He seemed like he could hold his alcohol so well, but he also mused that Cobb's driving had had a lot to do with it.

He still couldn't stop the amused snort and the grin that plastered his face for a few seconds after Eames's quip. He'd hated this awful red SUV ever since Cobb took it off the lot (he'd had to go and rent the Jeep for himself). _Eames probably improved on it, actually._ Cobb's head snapped around like a goddamn rubber band, and the smile was wiped off Arthur's face instantly.

Cobb reached up and rubbed his eyes. He could not believe what he was dealing with, he felt like all of a sudden his two most reliable men had turned into a pair of misbehaving teenagers. He breathed deeply a few times trying to clear his head before putting the car back in gear and pulling back into the road. "Okay," he said as calmly as he could, his jaw tense, telling a different story, "Now. Can someone _please_ explain to me what the hell is going on? Obviously you weren't just checking out the bar."

Eames glanced up at Cobb, wiping his mouth. He didn't have an explanation handy at the moment, so he shrugged. "Nothing really. We were doing just what Arthur said. Checking out the bar for the job. They spent a lot of time there." Eames glanced down at the puddle he left on the floor and pulled his feet up onto the seat, stretching across and leaning against the door.

Cobb glanced over at Arthur, who had been silent since the laugh he'd let out earlier. "And that _thing_ on the sidewalk? Was that research too?"

"I just had too many, all right?" Arthur said, suddenly defensive. "I know I... we... drank too much. We didn't intend to. It just kind of happened that way. We were too drunk to drive, so we took a walk. _That's all, Dom_." He said firmly, meeting Cobb's furious gaze for the first time since he'd gotten in the car. "It's unprofessional. It got way out of had. It won't happen again. All right?"

Cobb listened to Arthur, chewing on his lip. "Fine," he started, pulling into the lot. "But if your... _indiscretions_ screw up this job, I swear to God, you will be off looking for a new line of work."

Eames glanced up at Cobb's words, his eyes falling on Arthur, who looked suddenly very worried. "Cobb - look," Eames reached out a hand, resting it on Cobb's shoulder. "You don't have to take it that far. We're professionals. We're going to finish the job and do it right."

Cobb didn't respond to Eames's words, instead he stopped the SUV sharply in the parking space, jarring everyone inside. He glanced back at the other men before quickly getting out and walking to the hotel room, leaving Arthur and Eames alone in the SUV.

Arthur shook his head, watching Cobb stalk away from the car, knowing this was far from over. And he hated himself for letting it get this far, for disappointing Cobb. He'd always hated disappointing Cobb. Even if Cobb was being fairly distant and... paternal these days.

He got out and shut the door. The sun was already starting to dip below the trees, and Arthur suppressed a shiver, knowing it'd be even colder soon. Wasn't alcohol supposed to make you feel warm? It was only making him still faintly dizzy and unsure of himself.

Eames was adjusting his coat beside him, and Arthur pulled Eames's handkerchief out of his back pocket and held it out to him. "Hey," He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You okay?"

Eames zipped his jacket closed, looking up at Arthur. The corner of his mouth turned up as he reached out and took his handkerchief, their fingers brushing, sending small sparks through his body. He nodded at Arthur's question, surprising himself, "Yeah. I am."

He tucked the handkerchief into his pocket, his eyes meeting Arthur's. There was more he wanted to say, how he was glad that Arthur went with him, that he wanted things to keep going the way they were at that moment. All that he managed, though, was, "Are _you_ okay, Arthur?" The words he wished to say hiding behind his softened gaze.

"I'll be fine," He replied, meeting Eames's gaze for several moments until he pulled away, and a little flush appeared on his ears. He gave Eames a placid look before pulling his eyes away. He couldn't act like this. He couldn't let anything like what happened on the sidewalk happen again. Ever.

But if he said he hadn't at least felt... free, while he was drinking in that shitty bar with Eames, beating him at pool, even maybe having a little _fun,_ , he'd be lying. Because he had. And he would only admit to those thoughts in this fairly inebriated state. Otherwise, they'd go straight to the back of his mind. But for now, they were comforting.

He smiled a little, not really at Eames, but it might as well have been. "Thanks." He said, before he turned around and walked back to the hotel room, hunching his shoulders against the gaining cold. He knew Eames would follow, and they would continue the job, and for now, that was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Cobb was waiting for Arthur and Eames in the hotel room, when they both finally came in. He glanced up as they closed the door behind them, shedding their jackets and dropping them on the coat rack, before turning back to the pile of papers laying on the table in front of him. Without looking back up, he spoke to them, his tone stern, "You both smell awful. Why don't you wash up real quick before we get started. I ordered a couple pizzas, too. Those should be here in about twenty minutes. I expect both of you to be ready and able to work by then."

He picked up and flipped through the papers again, going over the details of the job in his head. Of course, today of all days, today these two chose to go off and do this. He had a new architect for this job. Cobb was bringing her in much later than he had planned, but it had taken him longer to find one than usual. She was going to be stopping by in a couple hours and he had a lot to go over with Arthur and Eames before then.

He hoped he wasn't being too hard on them, but their behavior made bringing in the new recruit even more difficult for him. Not only did they have a lot of work to accomplish this evening, but now he had to worry about what Eames and Arthur were going to do, particularly with the new developments he had witnessed on the sidewalk earlier.

Arthur went back his room to clean up after Cobb's words. Eames stood for a moment, watching Cobb work, his brow furrowed in concentration, before turning into the bathroom to clean up. He quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth, finishing off with some mouthwash to kill the flavor that had managed to stick with him after their eventful ride back to the hotel.

Eames stared into the mirror, for several minutes, trying to get his bearings. He couldn't get the image of Arthur out of his head, the look of happiness in his face, the openness of his expression, the way he held Eames' gaze. It made his stomach twist in a very different way than it had moments earlier. There definitely was something else below the surface, he only hoped Arthur didn't bury it even deeper after today.

\- - -

Arthur was very grateful for the chance to make his mouth not taste like a swamp. He had completely forgotten about the new architect, whose identity was a mystery to him. Arthur had resisted the inclusion of an architect in this job, but Cobb had insisted on one. Arthur sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes as he turned away from the bathroom mirror. Another recent time Cobb wasn't interested in his opinion.

He picked his peacoat off the bed and slid it back on, and he suddenly realized how quiet his room was. And clean. He had enjoyed the silence the first night. Tonight, he wasn't so sure. The distraction Cobb and Eames provided would be a welcome distraction from remembering all the things he was starting to recall doing that day.

His stomach did a few flip flops and for a minute he thought he was going to be sick again. He wasn't sure if he could stomach pizza. No, no. He wouldn't think about that today. Not now. It was time to work. He buttoned up his jacket and stepped outside, the cold biting at him the entire way to the hotel room.

\- - -

Cobb sat at the desk, waiting for Arthur and Eames to finish cleaning up and get back so they can actually get some work done. He needed to talk to Arthur, make sure that whatever it was that's going on between him and Eames wouldn't affect the job.

There was some noise at the door, someone inserting a key, followed by the door opening. Cobb looked up in time to see Arthur walk in. He nodded at his point man and motioned him to sit in the desk chair across from him. "Arthur," he began, "We need to talk."

Arthur's immediate reaction was to roll his eyes, but he caught himself just in time. Was Cobb really going to lecture him even more? Arthur made a soft noise of exasperation that was barely audible, but still took the seat across from Cobb anyway.

Where the hell was Eames? A distraction would've been more than welcome right now.

Eames was still in the bathroom, he was about to go back to the room when he heard the door open and Cobb's voice. The tone was serious and directed at Arthur. He removed his hand from the doorknob and stepped back, to wait this one out.

Cobb watched Arthur grudgingly walk across the room and settle in the chair across from him. He had let out a small sigh escape, telling Cobb he wasn't exactly happy with it. Once he had Arthur's attention, he finally spoke.

"Arthur, I'm not even going to ask what is going on with you and Eames. It's honestly none of my business." He glanced up and noticed Arthur visibly relax at those words. "I just need to know that whatever it is, it isn't going to fuck up this job."

If only Arthur knew what was going on between himself and Eames. Besides the obvious: the confession and Arthur's reaction to said confession which was first acting rudely and then getting drunk at noon the next day. Other than that, he was probably just as confused as Cobb was.

"There's nothing going on, so there's nothing to worry about," Arthur replied, his voice firm. "I'm completely focused on the task at hand. It's just it's a little colder up here than I... expected."

Cobb watched Arthur carefully, noticing the way his forehead creased in thought before he spoke, the way his eyes narrowed and focused on his hands, not meeting Cobb's eyes. Cobb saw through Arthur's excuse. He wanted to press the matter, but didn't want to make Arthur uncomfortable. "If you're sure that's all, then okay."

Arthur moved to stand up, but Cobb stopped him, "Honestly, Arthur, if you ever need someone to talk to, just let me know. I know I can be hard to get along with, but I _am_ still your friend."

Arthur raised his eyebrows stared at Cobb incredulously. Cobb was his friend. He would trust Cobb with his life, and they were partners. But he had been acting so strangely lately, he still couldn't believe his ears.

"Everything is fine, Dom, really. And you're right, you are kind of hard to get along with. Especially lately. Do you even know how you come across lately?"

It was Cobb's turn to look surprised. "What are you talking about?" He hadn't been acting any different than he had in the past, at least he didn't think so. What exactly was Arthur talking about?

"Ever since Phillipa was born you've been so... I don't know how to say it.. " He made a short gesture with his hands. "Overbearing. Almost like me and everyone else you work with are your children instead of your colleagues."

He sighed, running a hand over his face and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. "Chiding us over little things. Not letting us do things we did before, hovering over whatever we do. Those kinds of things. You weren't like this before. We're grown men, Dom. Professionals. We can handle ourselves."

Cobb listened to Arthur's words, nodding as he spoke. He hadn't noticed the changes in his personality, but as Arthur laid them bare before him, he could see the point he was making. When Arthur finished Cobb sat silent for a minute, digesting all that had been said. "I'm sorry, Arthur," he finally said, "I hadn't realized..." He ran a hand over his chin, thinking. "Have I really been that bad?"

Arthur frowned a little, and scratched the top of his hand awkwardly. He hadn't expected Cobb to apologize, much less realize how he's been acting.

"Yes. Well, kind of. I'm not mad at you, Dom." He said, meeting his friend's gaze. "I wouldn't know, but I imagine it's difficult being a father for the first time."

Cobb nodded, "It isn't easy. There's a lot more riding on these jobs now than before. A lot more on my shoulders." He stood up, stretching, looking around the room, before turning back to his point man. "Thanks, Arthur."

Eames had been listening to Arthur and Cobb's conversation the whole time, hearing bits and pieces through the door. He missed some pieces, but he heard what Arthur had said clearly, _there's nothing going on_. Eames tried to ignore it, but the words ate at him, playing over and over in his mind, writing over anything good that had happened earlier in the day. Is that really all Arthur thought about what had happened between them earlier? The reasonable part of his mind told him that Arthur was just saying what he did to smooth things over with Cobb. But Eames knew Arthur better than that, Arthur wouldn't say something unless he meant it.

Eames heard them finish their conversation and realized it was safe for him to join them in the room. He opened the door, his eyes travelling over the room, seeing Cobb standing by the table and Arthur sitting in the chair before him. "All clear?" He asked, forcing a smile on his face.

Cobb nodded in response, "Yeah, we're good," before sitting back down in the chair.

Eames's gaze fell on Arthur. His back was to Eames and he hadn't even made the effort to turn around and look at him when he left the bathroom. Eames felt a pang in his chest at the realization, but ignored it. He had to focus on the job this time and worry about Arthur later, if ever. Eames walked across the room, dropping onto his bed.

The click of the bathroom door made Arthur's blood run cold. Oh, shit. He'd been in the bathroom the entire time? Well, where else would he have gone? Arthur's shoulders tensed and he couldn't bring himself to look at Eames. He heard everything.

He his skin silently crawled. He realized with disdain he wouldn't be so uncomfortable if there really wasn't something going on with Eames and himself. He wasn't sure what, but there was something. And he said there wasn't. But that wasn't true. Or was it? The whole thing made Arthur's head hurt. _Why did he even care?_

There was a knock on the door and Cobb jumped up, "Must be the pizza." He headed to the door and opened it quickly, greeting the delivery driver and taking the pizza boxes from his hand. He passed the guy a couple bills and he left. Cobb turned around, carrying the pizza boxes in, dropping them on the empty bed.

Arthur was immediately relieved at the sound of the knock on the door (though he did jump a bit), and suddenly his stomach felt like an empty sack, crumpling in on itself. He was starving. He tried to push all the negative thoughts of his mind once again, and tried to focus on two things: putting something in his stomach, and their work.

Eames watched Arthur closely noticing how he jumped when the delivery guy knocked on the door. He wondered how much Arthur didn't like what had happened that day to completely ignore Eames and pretend he wasn't even there. If anything, Eames learned a valuable lesson in disappointment.

Once Cobb dropped the boxes on the other bed, Eames jumped up and grabbed two pieces for himself, sitting back in his bed once more. The three men sat in silence for several minutes, the only sounds were the hum of the radiator and their chewing. After everyone had finally slowed down, their stomachs full, Cobb cleared his throat to get their attention.

"All right," he started, "I had originally intended to share this with you both much earlier in the day, but that's passed. I've found us an architect for the job." He rifled through the papers until he found the one he was looking for, a sheet on the architect, he handed it to Arthur to look at. "This is our girl. Her name is Reid. She actually grew up here, knows the city well, as well as the buildings and sites we're going to be working with. And while she may not be as good as some of the others we used, she's well suited for this job."

"Reid?" Arthur repeated, rubbing a hand across his eyes. Was he still drunk? He thought for sure Cobb had just called the architect, which he thought was a female, a male name.

He was still trying to understand what Cobb said when he felt a gust of chilly air and suddenly she was standing in the room. This 'Reid' was tall for a girl, and willowy, with red hair. Freckles smattered at least half of her skin that was showing, which for now, was only her face, the rest of her covered with a thick sweater and brown slacks.

She shook her head, unwrapping the long wool scarf from around her neck. "Damn, it's cold outside. Even for this town. And that's saying something."

Eames glanced up at the newcomer, surprised that Cobb had actually hired one for this job. He didn't move to invite her in, instead his eyes instantly fixed jealously on Arthur, watching his reaction to the woman.

Cobb smiled as Reid settled into the room, walking to meet her and shake her hand. "Thanks for joining us, Reid," he said, motioning her in. "Sorry for the lack of seating, you can have my chair if you like," he stepped aside, offering his seat to Reid. As she took a seat, Cobb glanced at his point man and forger, "Arthur, Eames. This is Reid, she's our architect on this job."

Eames gave the barest of nods in Reid's direction, suspicious of the newcomer. He watched her carefully, wondering if she had any other intentions, if Cobb had screened her sufficiently. "Charmed," he finally said, much too late to be considered polite.

Arthur tapped his chin thoughtfully, watching Reid and Eames interact. His coldness was odd, he usually loved charming pretty woman as much as he did men. But he could tell Eames already didn't like Reid, which was pdd. Arthur was the one who was usually the first to be suspicious of Cobb's recruits.

But instead he found he found nothing wrong with her outright: her freckles and wide smile made her look younger than she was, yet she still looked professional. He offered his hand to her and returned the smile she gave him.

"Nice to meet you," She said, and he nodded in return. Reid was already taking in the not-no-subtle tension, watching the British man glowering at her from the corner of her eye. She also noted that the room smelt vaguely of alcohol.

Cobb's eyes traveled over his men, watching their reactions carefully. Arthur seemed comfortable with Reid, which helped settle his nerves some. He had hired her without being entirely sure himself. He knew that if Arthur was okay with her, he didn't have anything to worry about. Arthur was really good about picking those sorts of things up on people. Eames, on the other hand, looked suspicious of the new recruit. Cobb thought back for a moment and couldn't remember a time that Eames was the one showing suspicion. Usually the forger took everyone at face value, not worrying about what lay dormant underneath. Watching the way Eames's eyes focused on Reid, like he was trying to see through her, made something in Cobb's stomach twist.

Cobb reached over Reid, pulling a stack of papers and photos off the table. He flipped through them quickly and handed one to Reid. "This is the scene of the crime. This is what we're recreating for the first level of the dream." He pulled a second photo out, then a third. "These pictures are of the victim's vehicle. We'll need that recreated for this dream as well. It'll be placed on the side of the road," he leaned over pointing at a spot on the first picture, "here, near those markers."

Cobb sat down on the empty bed, dropping the rest of the pile beside him and turned to Arthur. "Arthur is going to explain to you the second level of the dream, what you'll need to create. Being a local should help you in this part especially."

The corner of Reid's mouth turned up a little as she nodded and picked up one of the papers on the pile and set to work. She sat on the corner of the bed that was closest to Arthur, and he went over the details of the second dream, while Cobb picked through the stack of papers to find paperwork appropriate for their discussion.

Eames stayed standing, only answering questions when asked, blunt and curt and his voice laced with caution. It got to a point where Arthur wanted to punch him for being so rude. Eames was never rude, and the trait was unbecoming on him.

Reid touched Arthur's arm several times during the session, and kept meeting his eyes; her gaze was intense for such a disarming-looking woman. He thought he could honestly see Eames's eyes burning a hole in the woman's head, his gaze was so unnerving and angry.

Still, Arthur thought Eames was being fairly ridiculous, as she seemed to be calm, intelligent and articulate. Eames was still sitting in the same spot when Reid pulled her jacket on to leave. After she said goodbye to Arthur and Cobb, and Cobb started to talk to Arthur, their backs turned away from Eames and Reid. At first, Reid looked like she was about to leave without even looking at Eames. But then suddenly, her gaze snapped to his, and she leaned in a little.

"Don't scowl so much," She murmured quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think he'll think it's very attractive on you." Her eyes snapped to Arthur, then back at Eames, and before he could gather himself, she was out the door and gone.

Reid hadn't even given Eames a chance to speak, not that he had anything to say in response. He was completely thrown off guard by her words. Eames stared at the door after it closed, his mind reeling from the what Reid had said. Did she see something there? Something that Eames had only thought he had seen? Eames ran a finger over his lip, thinking.

His first impression was to dislike Reid. Something about her seemed... off and the way she blatantly flirted with Arthur. It made something inside him bubble up with a jealousy he didn't even know he had. And then she had made that comment. He wasn't sure what to think now.

Eames must have been staring at the door for a while, because Arthur and Cobb had finished their conversation and were now looking back at Eames. Both men were staring at Eames, the looks on their faces expectant.

Arthur raised his eyebrow a little, but looked down again, shifting some papers off to the side with the tips of his fingers. His head was starting to hurt, and he would like nothing more than to go to bed. He was glad they were done.

"Your rudeness was awfully uncalled for," He remarked casually, pulling his coat on after Cobb had gone to the bathroom.

Eames raised his gaze to meet Arthur's. "That's merely a matter of opinion." Arthur shot him a look of disappointment before shaking his head and slamming the door behind him.

\- - -

Jones was leaning against the hood of his cruiser, currently parked in the lot of the local hotel. He was on duty, but in such a small town, there was rarely anything happening that would require his attention. Instead he was sitting out in the cold, his jacket open, a styrofoam cup of hot coffee in his hand, thinking.

He knew that Winchester didn't commit that crime. He knew it like he knew his name, like he knew his face when he looked in a mirror. But knowing it and proving it were turning out to be two very different worlds. He sighed, taking a long drink of his coffee. All his money, his life, his hopes, Winchester's future. They all rode on the team that he hired performing this job and bringing to light what he knew was the truth, to find out why it had happened.

He was lost in thought when a door slamming shut caught his attention. His head snapped up in the direction of the sound, noticing one of the men on the team he had hired storming across the lot, toward him. Jones wiped a hand over his face before looking up again.

Arthur noticed Jones, and exhaled slowly, trying to compose himself and put on a professional facade for their employer. He inhaled again, sharply, studying the police officer. Impeccably in uniform, not a button out of place. But he looked tired, perturbed, dark circles lining his eyes. The man looked broken.

"Evening," Arthur greeted him casually as he got closer to the patrol car. "Did you need something?" He added once he had gotten within proper talking distance of Jones.

Jones shook his head in response to Arthur. "I was just taking a breather," he took another drink of his coffee. "It's been a long shift," he sighed, remembering the events that brought him to this moment, "An even longer month."

He glanced over at Arthur, watching his expression closely. "What's worrying you tonight?"

"Nothing, why do you ask?" Arthur's eyebrows were high on his forehead. He was slightly put off at Jones's question.

"You should go home, get some rest. You'll need the focus for tomorrow," Arthur said after a pause, watching how Jones's limbs seemed to be weighted. The man looked exhausted.

Jones shook his head, "Can't do much yet, another two hours on the shift." He stared at the row of hotel rooms, not really focusing on any one, his mind drifting back to his main worry.

He let out another long sigh, turning his head back to Arthur. "It's just hard... y'know?"

"Mmm, I can imagine," Arthur replied, letting his eyes flicker to the ground, slightly uncomfortable under Jones's gaze. He raised them quickly. "How are you holding up?"

Jones shrugged, "As well as to be expected." Which wasn't that well at all, if he were honest. "You know... If he's convicted, he could be put away for years. I may not see him again outside of prison." Jones struggled to hold back the emotion that had been clawing at him for the last several weeks, begging to be let free. "I just... I don't think I can handle that."

Arthur frowned, watching Jones's face twist with emotion, and he felt sympathetic. He had to admit he had never seen any human being so completely devoted to another, outside of Dom and Mal. For a fleeting moment, he wished he knew what that devotion felt like.

He bit his tongue. He wanted to tell Jones that it would be all right, Winchester would be coming back. But he knew he couldn't guarantee that.

"I-I'm sorry." He managed to say after awhile. The silence was deafening. "That... that would be horrible."

Jones took one last drink of his coffee, draining it. "You have no idea." He stood up, putting on his hat and zipping up his jacket.

"You know," He paused, staring off again, thinking. "You never know how much you can love someone..." Jones took a deep breath, hearing it shudder as he exhaled. "Not until it's tested."

He turned from Arthur, tipping his hat. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," before getting back into his squad car.

"Goodnight," Arthur replied quietly as Jones shut the door to the car, started it, and drove away. The man's word's echoing in his mind. _Not until it's tested_. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. God, he was so tired.

He finally moved his legs, which felt like lead, and made his way back to his room, wrapping his arms around himself. The first flakes of a nighttime storm were starting to fall, and it was as cold as ever, and Arthur let himself visibly shiver.

Though he was so tired, he sat on the hotel bed for a long time with his coat on. He felt a little nauseous still, but at least his radiator was working and he was warm. He rubbed his temples with his fingers.

He wished he hadn't been so snippy with Eames before he left. He'd actually had a nice time today, before he got sick. And Eames hadn't cared that he puked up all of that beer he bought, either.

It made Arthur feel conflicted. He lay against the bedcovers, his coat still on, and suddenly he was picturing Eames in his head, reaching out to wrap his arm around him. He could still smell his cologne and the beer and could see the look in his eyes and...

Tested. _Ah, shit._


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning found everyone gathered at the restaurant across the street, eating breakfast and prepping themselves for the extraction. Cobb watched the members of his team closely, noticing the tension that was still very visible between them. He wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but that didn't stop him from worrying about it.

Reid was continually interacting with Arthur, small touches and smiles. The way she looked at him when he talked seemed not so harmless. Eames was still keeping a close eye on her. And even though he was at least making some attempt at hiding his interest, he couldn't hide the small downturn in his lips that remained as he watched her every move.

Arthur wondered at first why he had even sat next to the architect at breakfast; at first, she was making him uncomfortable. Then she used the word 'precocious' and Arthur felt a little more comfortable. Eventually, though he was quite aware of Eames's glare, burning holes in his head as he listened to Cobb talk about their plan.

They would be entering the small police station where Winchester was being held in about an hour from now. Arthur had taken great precautions to set up their privacy; setting up a distraction for the police to follow, to leave Winchester unattended except for Jones, who would be waiting for them to arrive.

It would also knock Winchester out, leaving him susceptible to be administered a sedative and enter his dreamspace. Arthur chewed on the pad of his thumb reflectively as he went over the details in his head as the others finished their breakfast. He could see none of his carefully laid plans out of place.

Cobb wiped his mouth with a napkin, dropping it on his empty plate and took a look at his team. "Okay, is everyone clear on their roles? Does everyone know the plan?" He looked around the table for everyone's consent.

Eames nodded in response. His part was easy enough. Arthur and Cobb were going to lead their entrance into the precinct. All he had to do was worry about what he was going to do in the dream. His forgeries and their personalities. He tried to focus on the habits and idiosyncrasies of his subjects, but let himself get distracted by Arthur.

His eyes would focus on the way Arthur would lean into Reid, how his shoulder brushed against her arm, the smiles he'd share with her, the way his fingers brushed her hand. He forced himself to close his eyes and willed himself to forget it. In place, the memories of the day before flashed before his eyes, the carefree smile on Arthur's face, the vulnerability in his eyes. None of this bode well for keeping his projection at bay.

"Eames!" Cobb practically yelled in Eames's ear. The forger was apparently lost in thought so deep that he hadn't noticed they were talking to him.

Eames glanced up at Cobb, his eyes unfocused.

"It's time." Cobb stood up, throwing a handful of bills on the table. He led his team out of the restaurant and to the parking lot.

Arthur was already at the driver's side door of the Jeep when Eames left the restaurant, amiably chatting to Reid as he rifled through the back seat for something.

"What are you looking for?" Reid asked, wrapping her scarf around her neck.

"My driving gloves," He muttered, pulling out the pocket on the back of the driver's seat. He made an annoyed noise in his throat and stood back. "I thought I had them in the glove compartment, but I can't find them anywhere."

Eames followed behind the team, watching everybody walk over to the Jeep that Arthur had rented. His gaze followed Cobb who climbed into the front passenger seat pretty quickly, before settling on Arthur and Reid, who were talking at the back of the Jeep. Arthur was digging through the back, clearly looking for something he lost.

Eames knew what Arthur was looking for. He slid a hand into his own jacket pocket, his fingers brushing over the soft leather of Arthur's driving gloves. He didn't want to give them up to Arthur, their presence reminding him of the day before.

As Eames drew closer, he saw Reid shrug and climb into the Jeep behind Cobb. Eames stepped up beside Arthur, who was still digging furiously through his bags. He removed the gloves from his pocket, holding them in his hands, waiting on Arthur to notice that he was there.

Arthur caught the shape in his peripheral vision, and looked up at Eames before he straightened up. His nose was already tinged pink because of the biting morning air. He looked puzzled at first, then noticed the leather in Eames's hands.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," He said quietly, a little flush appearing in his cheeks. Eames held them out to him wordlessly, and he reached out and took them just as silently. His bare hands were freezing, but he brushed Eames's warm palms briefly, and he frowned a bit, his memories of yesterday flooding back to himin an instant.

"Er, thank you," He said softly, pulling the gloves on.

Eames nodded, watching Arthur pull the gloves on. "Thank you," he responded before stepping around Arthur to climb into the back seat. He glanced at the seat beside him, where Reid sat, buckled and ready to go. He bit his tongue, holding back a snide remark. He understood why Cobb hired an architect for the dreams, but there was something about the woman that he couldn't get past, didn't like. It was something that sat at the back of his mind, an itch needing to be scratched, nagging and insistent with no cause or reason. He let out a low breath as Arthur climbed into the seat in front of him, starting the Jeep.

Cobb glanced over at Arthur as he climbed into the driver's seat. "Find what you were looking for?" He nodded when Arthur held up his hand, wrapped in a leather glove. "Well, let's get moving then." Arthur quickly put the Jeep in gear and drove them across town toward the jail where Winchester was being held.

Reid smiled at Eames as he got in the car, relishing the pissy look she got in return. As they traveled on, Eames tried not to look at Reid, but eventually stole a glance at her, and he was a little unnnerved to find her staring at him. A corner of her mouth turned up, and she moved her eyes very slowly up to the car seat in front of him, where Arthur was driving. When he followed her gaze, he caught Arthur red handed stealing a glance at Reid out of the corner of his eye. He turned his eyes quickly, but the damage was already done.

She gave him a big shit-eating grin, but before he could have any sort of reaction, there was a huge bang that echoed across the mountains.

"Ah... that would be that old Camry I bought those kids from the skate park," Arthur mused, smirking.

"You mean you bought a bunch of kids a car?" Reid asked from the backseat.

"I told some teenagers I'd buy them a used car as long as they would destroy it at exactly this time today," Arthur said, looking down at his watch that was peeking underneath the hem of the leather gloves.

Sirens immediately began wailing loudly. Arthur nodded, pleased that he was right in his judgment to trust those kids. It had been a crapshoot.

Cobb looked over at him with his eyebrows raised. "I said cause a distraction, not let a bunch of kids kill themselves in a Toyota."

"Relax, I told them to push it off that rock wall a few miles down."

He pulled over quickly, watching with satisfaction as he watched several police cruisers go sailing past them, lights blaring. Cobb rolled his eyes and Arthur put the car back into gear, taking them the rest of the way to the police station.

Three more police cruisers passed them on the way. Another patrol car passed them on the way - four cars. The entirety of the tiny town’s sheriff's department. He had made damn sure that there would only be one cop waiting for them at the station - Jones.

The Jeep pulled into the nearly empty lot of the precinct. Save for a few civilian vehicles, all but one cruiser was out on the scene. A quick scan of the tag told Eames it was Jones' vehicle. Once the Jeep was in park, the team quickly climbed out of the vehicle and made their way to the building. Arthur and Cobb led the way, the silver case of the PASIV in Cobb's hand.

Arthur walked up to the front desk, where a young woman was clicking aimlessly on a computer mouse. He made eye contact with her and smiled casually. "We're here to see Officer Jones. Is he available?"

The woman's cheeks reddened when she met Arthur's gaze before quickly glancing back behind her. "JONES!" She shouted, "You have visitors!"

Eames heard a voice from the back of the precinct call for her to send them back. The woman nodded her head toward a hallway, one Eames remembered from the first dream he and Arthur had shared for this job. The team made their way down the hallway, Jones met them at the end, right before a large door.

"Tanya is the only person here right now, aside from me," Jones explained. "Everyone else had went to lunch right before the call went out. She can't leave her desk until someone else gets back."

Cobb glanced around the hallway, noticing the cameras in the corners had been covered. "So how long does that leave us?"

Jones glanced at his watch, "Twenty. Twenty-five minutes max."

Cobb nodded, "Well, let's get moving then." He watched Jones unlock the door, leading them to the jail cells in the back.

Winchester was passed out on the cot of one of the two small jail cells, slumbering peacefully. He watched Jones's face twitch as he pulled out the special copy of that cell key Arthur had made earlier in the week. They had to make a copy; no one in the station trusted Jones to have the keys to the cell and not set his partner free.

He opened the door, passing his eyes over his partner's face before turning his face away. Arthur lowered his eyes to the floor as he passed Jones on the way in, setting the PASIV down on the floor next to the man and opening it.

It opened with a sharp noise that was unique only to the device. Suddenly, a shrill, loud voice was calling Jones's first name from the front of the station. He sighed and rolled his eyes a bit, excusing himself.

Cobb tested Winchester's slumber by slapping his face firmly. Nothing.

Reid knelt next to Arthur and asked him something in a quiet voice, resting her hand against his arm for balance. She laughed, and he laughed amiably with her, in his unique quiet manner as he started to pull the IV lines out of the PASIV. Eames had never heard him laugh like that before in response to something _he_ had said.

Eames ground his teeth, thinking about Arthur's laugh. He hated hearing it at that moment, knowing it wasn't for him. Knowing that it may never be for him. Shaking his head, he brushed the thoughts away, instead focusing on the task at hand.

Working quickly, he moved around the cell, helping Arthur set up the IVs, pressing the needle into Winchester's arm before wrapping the strap around his wrist. Eames sat down on the floor next to the PASIV, sliding a needle into his own wrist, not even flinching when it pierced his skin.

Cobb took a seat facing Eames, preparing his own IV, watching everyone else finish theirs. He glanced at Arthur, "set the timer to ten minutes. That leaves us with about five, eight minutes to clear out of here once we're done."

Arthur nodded, grimacing, "Tight schedule."

"Always." Cobb watched Arthur reach over and depress the button on the PASIV, sending them all into the dream.

\- - -

Winchester found himself standing along the road in the middle of the night, the only light coming from the half moon above his head. He looked down; no police uniform. No patrol car. No gun.

He always felt naked without his gun.

The night was chilly, and he didn't recognize the road, but started to follow it anyway. He knew it was a road in the mountains above the town, but which, he was not sure.

Slowly, but surely, it came back to him. He knew where he was now.

Cobb glanced around the dreamscape, the winding road, the bright moonlight. He realized he and Winchester arrived just down the road from where Eames would be forging Miss Henry. He knew that Arthur and Reid would both be nearby, though they weren't playing a direct role in this level.

Cobb watched Winchester take in the scene, seeing the realization of where he was dawn on him. He took a deep breath, before speaking, settling into his role. They had agreed that he would play this dream like a Ghost of Christmas Past sequence. "Mr. Winchester," Cobb began, walking over to the other man. "Do you know why I brought you here?"

Winchester started when he heard Cobb's voice. He looked nervous, and a tad aggravated.

"No, I have no idea. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm your guide," Cobb stated simply. "Consider this a sort of... Moral awakening." He started walking down the street, toward the scene of the crime, motioning Winchester to follow. "Mr. Winchester, you know what happened here, don't you?"

Winchester hesitated a bit when he recognized the crime scene. "Of course I do," He replied quietly, studying the bit of road apprehensively. His whole body was one solid sheet of tension, and his eyes were tired and dark.

"But why am I here? What's going on?" His voice got less hard with the questions, and he sounded genuinely lost.

\- - -

About a mile away from the site, further in the forest, Arthur looked down at his police uniform. It was perfect down to the last detail. He looked to his left, Reid was wearing the same uniform, only slightly altered, as it was a woman's uniform. The uniform looked natural on her, as if she were used to wearing them.

She could've just as well stayed hidden during this level; they truly only needed her to work the PASIV when they entered the second level. She wanted to tag along.

A noise caught his attention ahead. It was the victim's car, parked a few feet ahead of the patrol car, Eames preparing his forgery.

Eames had opened his eyes in the dream standing outside the Volvo he had created in his last practice run. He knew he didn't have much time before the police cruiser would be meeting him with it's mystery officer. Looking into the window, as he did before, he began to create the forgery. He changed his posture, dropping his head, lowering his gaze, hiding the self confidence that characterized himself. When he looked up again into the window, he saw Miss Henry looking back.

Eames heard a noise and looked up to see Arthur and Reid climbing out of the woods, toward their patrol car. Eames nodded his head in their direction, his eyes following Reid as she held onto Arthur's arm while climbing down the hillside. Once they were in their vehicle, he climbed into his own and started down the road, knowing that in only a minute or two he'd meet up with the rapist.

\- - -

Cobb was still leading Winchester along the road, watching for the signs he had had Reid build into the dreamscape to tell them they were at the right point. Glancing up into the woods, he saw an orange hunter's marker tied into a tree, something not uncommon in these woods that Winchester wouldn't notice as off.

Leading Winchester up the embankment, he responded to his questions, "I've already explained this to you. You're here because you've strayed." Cobb glanced back at Winchester, making sure he was following him. "I'm your guide, I'm here to show you where you've strayed." Cobb stopped climbing when they were high up on the hill, overlooking the scene below. "You're here to understand this, to set your path right."

"Path?" Winchester looked confused at first, and then the color rushed out of his face. "Oh, fuck. I'm dead, aren't I?"

Cobb shook his head, "Not exactly... But not far from it."

Winchester looked visibly relieved at Cobb's answer, though the second part caused him to pause. But his wave of positive emotion washing over him was cut short as headlights broke over the hill, and he turned, his eyes adjusting to the sudden bright light.

He saw the outline of the Volvo sedan, driving along at the speed limit for the road, perhaps a little slow. He knew who it was, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, fidgeting as he watched the car approach.

"What's to understand? You know I did it." He said, but he seemed to have a little trouble saying the last sentence, hesitating and drawing out his words. _Everyone knows._

"Are you so certain?" Cobb asked, quietly.

Winchester opened his mouth to reply, but then he heard the sirens, and he turned back to watch as a speeding patrol car caught up to the Volvo, and dangerously tailgated it until it pulled over to the side of the road.

A mile away, Arthur and Reid had watched the patrol car and had caught sight of the projection. They'd gotten in their car a few minutes after it passed, and started surely toward the scene.

Winchester's hands were in fists, and he tried to hide them by crossing his arms. Both cars turned off, but the headlights stayed on, and for a minute, all you could hear was the wind rustling the branches of the trees. Cobb heard Winchester inhale audibly.

The car door opened with a sharp metallic ka-chunk, and the dark figure moved to the driver's side door of the Volvo. Murmured voices are heard, one deep, one timid and feminine.

The deeper voice escalates with every sentence, and the feminine one is getting more panicked, and in a split second the driver's side door is yanked open and there is a high pitched scream.

The two figures seem to start to tumble to the hood of the Volvo, and all you can hear is a terrible screaming and sobbing and "Oh, please, god, I'll do whatever you want, please...!" repeated over and over.

And then just as Cobb thinks Winchester is about to bolt, though he wasn't sure where; another set of headlights floods into the area, and Arthur is going terrifically above the speed limit.

He screeched to a halt, and his car skidded to face the rapist and Eames's forgery of the victim. The projection is revealed.

Cobb thought it was Winchester at first, but no, he decided, this man is much heavier and his hair is longer, and his facial features were flatter. The man looked a lot like Winchester, but he was decidedly not.

Cobb narrowed his eyes, trying to see clearly, but he doesn't recognize the man. "That isn't you." Cobb said, his voice flat.

Winchester let the breath he was holding go in a whoosh, running his hands over his face.

"Thank you for noticing, you're very observant," He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "No, it's not me."

He lowered his hands and sighed deeply. "I suppose you want to know who it is."

When Cobb nodded, Winchester hesitated telling him. Then he remembered how his 'guide' said he was pretty much dying anyway, so, what the hell.

"That's my cousin, Martin Rhodes." He said, and he grimaced a bit as Arthur slammed the projection down on the hood and started to put him in handcuffs, yelling out his rights.

Cobb watched Winchester's face closely, listening for the words he needed. When he heard the name of the rapist, he acted, quickly slamming the butt of his gun to the back of Winchester's head, effectively knocking him out. He shouted below to the rest of the team, calling them off, as he began dragging Winchester down to the road. He listened to their struggle with the projection until it was silenced, someone having subdued him.

Eames was standing back from Arthur and Reid, watching Arthur handle Rhodes. He couldn't say he wasn't impressed. The point man knew how to handle the role, better than he had imagined. When he heard Cobb shout from down the road, Eames looked away to see Cobb dragging an unconscious Winchester from the woods. He quickly shrugged off his forgery as Arthur took out the projection and turned to help Cobb with Winchester.

Arthur cuffed the projection of Mr. Rhodes efficiently, though the man struggled and bucked against Arthur's grip.

Reid half hovered around Arthur, half watched as Eames lifted the unconscious man's legs and helped Cobb move Winchester to the side of the road where they would collectively enter the second dream realm. The two men started to discuss the next dream sequence, where Eames's forgery was apparently to take a whole new direction.

She knew that he had to 'seduce' or come on to Winchester in his own dream, forged as Jones. Part of the aim of this dream was to encourage the sexuality the whole team thought was underground with the two cops in the open.

If Winchester openly admitted his feelings for his partner, if they were as strong as Cobb believed they were, he would no longer want to take the fall for the writhing man in Arthur's grip.

Arthur finally tired of the man's squirming and jabbed him sharply in the head with a flat hand, and he fell limp. Arthur huffed, annoyed, and shoved him unceremoniously into the back of the squad car.

"He seems really eager to get into the next dream," Reid remarked casually.

Arthur straightened and took his hat off; wiping a hand across his forehead. "What?"

"Mr. Eames. He seems really into this whole, er, seduction thing going on in the next level." She cocked her head towards Cobb and Eames, Eames leaning against the side of the Volvo, talking to Cobb who had opened up the PASIV and was setting it up.

Arthur watched Eames body language for a moment. He was smiling, and his eyes were bright and yes, he did seem anxious. Arthur's stomach bunched.

"Mmm, yes, well I would suppose that kind of thing would come naturally to him," Arthur replied, and though the statement was meant to be biting, it was obvious by his tone that his heart was not in it.

Reid took notice.

"Well, you know him better than I do," She said, following Arthur as he started over to the two, suddenly not wanting to be out of the discussion one moment longer.

When Reid and Arthur met them at the PASIV, Cobb began pulling out IVs, handing one to Arthur and one to Eames. He took one for Winchester and pressed it into his wrist, strapping it down. "Reid, you've worked with PASIVs before, correct?" He asked, looking up to see her nod. "Okay, good. All we need you to do here is to watch the clock and play the music at 25 seconds to cue us." He pressed an IV into his own wrist before laying down beside the PASIV, closing his eyes and focusing on the layout and design of the next level that Arthur and Reid had gone over with him.

Eames's eyes followed Reid as she walked over to them, her own gaze fixated on Arthur until Cobb spoke to her. He still didn't trust the woman and disliked leaving his body, even in a dream, alone with her. He couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that she wasn't who she appeared to be and he wondered why Arthur and Cobb were blind to it.

Eames took his IV from Cobb, pressing it into his wrist, before laying down, his hands resting on his stomach. He chanced a glance over at Arthur, realizing the other man was studying him closely, his eyes narrowed in concentration - like he was trying to determine something that Eames was hiding. Eames quickly looked away, finding his gaze fixing on Reid. She returned the eye contact, her mouth twisting into a satisfied smirk, before leaning down and pressing the button on the PASIV.


	5. Chapter 5

Eames opened his eyes in the next level, finding himself, Cobb, and Arthur standing on the sidewalk outside the Alpine Bar and Grille. Inside, Winchester would wake up at the table by his and Jones's old baseball photo, waiting for Jones to meet him there.

Arthur took a peek inside the dirty, dusty window. Cigarette smoke drifted through the light streaming from the lamps, and he could hear the familiar clink and bustle he remembered filling the establishment.

He finally looked to the left side of the room, and sure enough, there was Winchester, sitting at the same booth that he and Eames had sat at a day before, a half-consumed beer in front of him and looking positively bewildered.

Arthur watched as he glanced at the photo and stared, then glanced away quickly. Reid's comment ran through his mind again. He tried to shake the thought.

It wouldn’t go away.

"Winchester is ready for you," Cobb looked back at Eames.

Eames took a deep breath and began creating his forgery. Looking into the window of the Ford parked outside the bar, he started by straightening his posture. Like before, he lifted his head and eyed his reflection; he then slid a hand along his jacket, pulling it back reaching for the gun on his shoulder holster. When his fingers brushed over the metal of the gun, he felt something change and when his eyes met his reflection he was looking back at Jones.

Eames turned to Arthur and Cobb, a smile on his face, "Ready when you are, boys."

Cobb nodded in response, giving Eames a once-over. He was definitely amazing at what he did. When Cobb looked at Eames, all he saw was Jones. If he hadn't watched the transformation happen, he wouldn't have known any difference. "Go in. We don't have much time." He watched Eames turn from them and start to walk into the bar, stepping through the door like he had done it a thousand times.

Arthur tried to to keep his eyes averted from Eames's transformation, but he'd always found the process transfixing; it was an art and Eames was an aficionado. Of course, he'd ever admitted that to Eames.

After the bar door had shut behind Eames, he turned his head to Cobb, making out the extractor's face shaded by the light filtered through the windows.

"There's more going on here, than a man taking the fall for his cousin," Arthur murmured, and Cobb nodded. Arthur breathed an inward sigh of relief; though it was predictable, being on the same page with Dom was always allaying.

Arthur jerked his head towards the forest. "You know the drill. Somewhere close, there is a small enclosed hunting shed that the two... used to go to... you know." He cleared his throat a bit. " _Be alone_."

He straightened his posture a bit. "If there's any information to garner, it'll be there."

Cobb nodded. "I'll be back as quickly as I can." He turned from Arthur and climbed into the Ford. He gave the point man a quick wave from the SUV before pulling out and heading toward the forest.

\- - -

Eames entered the bar, his eyes searching the back corner of the room for Winchester. He found him sitting at their table, and his lips pulled into a small smile when he saw Eames. Walking up to the bar, he ordered a local beer that Jones had said he'd order often, taking it with him to the table where Winchester waited for him.

Eames climbed onto the stool at the table, smiling at Winchester, his eyes meeting the other man's. "Jack," he said simply, greeting the other man.

Winchester smiled a little at him; and Eames's trained eye was able to notice how his body language visibly relaxed at the sight of his friend and partner. But Eames noticed how careful he was to keep an air of distance that was not unfriendly. Cautious would be a better word to describe it.

"Charlie," He responded, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the glass mug and lifting it up. At least a fourth of the remaining liquid drained down his throat before he set it back down again.

Eames brought his own beer to his lips, taking a small drink of it before setting it down. He studied Winchester's face, attempting to gauge how he would attempt to complete his mission with Winchester. While seducing men and women alike came naturally to him, this time it was different. He felt less comfortable in the skin he had to wear, the mannerisms and attitude he had to project. He had to work more at this than when he was himself.

Eames glanced at the wall, the pictures, focusing instead on the reflection in the glass. He noticed how Winchester's gaze would settle on his face, his expression unguarded, unlike when Eames returned the gaze. Eames turned back to Winchester, the other man quickly looking down into his drink. "Any plans for the weekend?" Eames finally asked, attempting to make conversation.

Winchester looked up at Eames, and his dark eyes were so intense and full of passion that it threw Eames for a loop. Not enough to even slightly alter the forgery, but even so. Suddenly he couldn't remember anything Cobb had told him about Winchester's personality. Wasn't he supposed to be cold, distant?

 _Someone had definitely made a miscalculation_ , Eames came to a solid confusion when he felt Winchester's warm palm on his leg underneath the table, making him jump.

"I'm sorry," Winchester whispered, his voice soothing. Full of warmth, familiarity, tenderness. "I know you don't like that. I just missed you, that's all."

Eames kept his eye contact with Winchester, despite the surprise when Winchester touched him. He had thought _he_ would be the one doing the seducing. From the way things appeared, Winchester had been trying to make that connection with Jones all along.

Eames shook his head, allowing a smile to form. "It's okay, Jack." He watched Winchester closely, recognizing the confusion on his features as he spoke. With those three words, he had managed to change everything about their relationship. Eames realized he would have to settle into this; he didn't want Winchester to think anything strange about the dream.

Reaching out a hand, his fingers finding Winchester's, he stroked along the other man's hand much like he did Arthur's the day before. "About that," he began, his eyes focusing on Winchester's. "Jack, I've been thinking... A lot, actually."

\- - -

Cobb turned down a side street, which eventually turned into a dirt road. He found himself at the edge of the woods, where he knew a small cabin waited only a short walk in. So far, Eames and Arthur seemed to be keeping the projections at bay. Since leaving the city proper, he hadn't run into a single one. The dirt road and forest were appropriately barren save for the wildlife one would expect to find. He climbed out of the SUV, checking his belt for gun before heading into the forest. He didn't have a long time to search. He had to get this done as quickly as possible.

\- - -

Even in the dreamscape this city was unbearably cold. Arthur pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck, his breath coming in long, white tendrils from his mouth.

He was thankful that the shadows were keeping the projections passing in and out of the bar from paying him too much attention as he watched the goings-on inside. He was positioned in such a way that he could not be seen from the inside, but yet he had a very clear view of Eames and Winchester seated at the table.

He felt his mouth twitch a bit when Winchester put his hand on Eames's leg. Shit, Winchester wasn't supposed to be so forward, Jones had told them how aloof and cold he could be - but obviously, Jones had been lying. Why had he been lying? Because of it, Arthur's information had been wrong.

He was about to go and at least warn Eames with a gesture to update him, but he watched Eames entwine their fingers and without saying anything Eames already expressed control of the situation. Arthur felt himself relax as well.

He shifted his weight a bit, and his eyes were drawn to Eames stroking Winchester's hand, and lowering his head a bit, and his eyes; staring at Winchester as he was talking.

They had audio tapped Eames before he'd went in, so Arthur could keep track of the progress and lend a hand when needed; and Arthur decided it was about time to turn it on.

\- - -

Winchester looked up at Eames, his eyebrows raised in silent surprise, lines running through his forehead. The expression was painfully, painfully familiar.

"O-oh." He stammered a bit, shocked to feel his partner tenderly returning his gesture. "You have?"

Eames nodded in response. "This whole thing. With you and being in jail. It's really been on my mind. I've realized something that I had been trying my damnedest to ignore."

Eames glanced down at their hands, their fingers entwined. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, longer than I've let on. Jack..." He looked up again into the other man's face, Winchester's eyes were wide, surprise registering on his features. "My whole life. I've been hiding who I am. Pretending to be someone I'm not. Creating a life that I know is a lie."

Eames took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, shakily. He could feel tears sting at his eyes and knew then that he had it. "Everything that I have. It doesn't make me happy. But, working with you. Sitting here in the bar. Waiting for a call to come through. _That_ makes me happy."

Eames leaned into Winchester, focusing on the other man's eyes, seeing the emotion on his face, making his breath catch. "Jack," he began again. " _You_ make me happy."

Winchester stared at Eames, his expression wide and unbelieving, and his hand tightened in a vice grip around Eames's. The squeeze was almost painful, but it far from angry or even meant to harm. His hands were shaking.

"Charlie," He whispered, just barely above mouthing his partner's name, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. His eyes were shining in the dim lights of the bar. "I don't know what prompted you to say that. But you know you always made me happy."

He paused. "Uh, do you think we could, er," He hesitated, drawing his eyes away for a moment and gazing over at the door of the bar.

Eames followed Winchester's gaze to the door and wondered where he was intending they go, other than just outside the bar. Eames threw back the last of his beer and stood up to follow Winchester out of the bar. He coughed into his shirt, something that sounded faintly like leaving, before nodding his head to the bartender. He smiled at Winchester, nerves beginning to flutter in his stomach.

Arthur heard the signal and had removed himself from his place at the window and behind the bushes before Winchester had even opened the door. He crouched down and watched the two men exit from spaces between the leaves.

He did remember puking in these bushes. He tried not to think about it.

And when he saw Winchester press Eames against the wall of the bar in a passionate kiss, he wasn't thinking about anything anymore. He suddenly couldn't concentrate on anything else but the thrush of anger that surged through him.

Jack was a strong, sturdy man, which did not surprise Eames. He was also a fantastic kisser, forceful, but he did not bite or use his teeth. Just all full lips and a bit of tongue, and his hands on either sides of Eames's head.

After he had pulled away, he couldn't meet Eames's eyes. "Do you have any idea, how long I've waited for you to say that?" He said, his voice rough.

Eames looked down at Winchester, surprised by his sudden shyness, after all the aggressiveness he had shown. He glanced around the area quickly, noticing Arthur tucked behind the bushes and no sign of Cobb yet. _Where was he?_ He turned back to Winchester and hooked a finger under his chin, tilting it up so that he would meet his eyes.

Something inside him twisted at the way Winchester looked at him. With so much longing and hope. It was how he had always wanted Arthur to look at him. To see him with something other than anger and frustration. And here Winchester was, believing him to be Jones and for a moment Eames wished he was just so he could make someone as happy as Winchester was at that moment. Eames pulled in his bottom lip, chewing on it, trying to concentrate on holding onto his forgery.

He leaned into Winchester and pressed his lips to the other man's. Kissing slowly and intently, he slid his tongue along Winchester's lip, pressing for entrance into his mouth. He reached a hand up, cradling his jaw. He could hear Winchester moan in response, the small sound doing things to him that he knew it shouldn't. Something in him kept whispering, telling him it was wrong, but he couldn't stop.

Winchester was beside himself; his whole body trembling and his heart pounding in his ears. Charlie was finally not going to be ashamed anymore; they didn't have to hide anymore. He pressed his body against Eames, pressing a sucking kiss to the other man's neck, enjoying the response he was garnering from his partner.

Arthur realized the death grip he had on a thorny branch much too late, and he pulled his hand away, seeing bloody spots on his palm. He was angry; so angry, he wanted to punch something; anything.

Reid was right: Eames was enjoying this way too much, and Arthur felt like a fucking _voyeur_ watching them. He honestly felt like was going to throw up again, the burning in the pit of his stomach was that fierce. He'd seen Eames forge before and he knew Eames was good at what he did.

But he could also tell when Eames was acting and when he wasn't; and he wasn't now. Arthur was sure of it. He felt his jaw clench as he watched Eames eagerly press into the kiss and his hips push forward, every ounce of his willpower being utilized to keep from stopping this little show by shooting both of the men in the head.

\- - -

Cobb had made his way through the forest, following the path that he knew would be there. In no time at all he found the cabin that Arthur had reminded him about. He glanced around himself, taking in the scenery, his eyes scanning the landscape, looking for possible threats. He found nothing. It unnerved him. It was unusual for a subject to leave their secrets so unprotected and every step he took closer to the building, the more he expected _something_ to happen. Though something told him the subject matter of the dream made it possible for this to happen.

He reached the cabin, finding the door locked. Quickly working with his picks, he heard the lock click and swung the door open. Inside the cabin, the shutters were pulled tightly closed, leaving little lines of light filtering through the gaps in the slats. He walked into the building, pulling the string on a naked bulb hanging from the center of the one room cabin, the weak light illuminating the room.

On one wall was a two person cot, two sleeping bags rolled up on it. A small table sat in one corner, two chairs pulled under. Right next to it was an old iron wood stove with a tin ductwork chimney which ran through the ceiling. There was a bookshelf by the door, filled with several novels and a whole row of journals, which caught Cobb's eye. He knelt down beside the bookshelf and pulled a journal at random off the shelf. On the cover in embossed gold was the years 1998-1999.

Flipping to a page about a third of the way in, he read the words scribbled on the page in Winchester's writing:

 _It all happened so fast. I didn't mean to do it. I only wanted the pain to stop. I wanted it gone and I didn't know how else to do it. Why did it have to happen? I didn't mean to do it, but I'm not sorry. You should've just left me alone. Left us all alone._

Cobb closed the book quickly, putting it back on the shelf. These were memories he didn't need to know. Didn't want to know. He scanned his finger along the shelf, stopping at the volume labeled 2006-2007 on the cover. Knowing Winchester's history, he flipped toward the end until he found the passage he was looking for.

 _Jones and I have been partnered for going on six months now. And where I had at first found myself hating him, the way he always seemed to be the center of attention, living without a care or worry, I've learned that's not who he is underneath. On our long nights patrolling together, I've seen him in his quiet moments. The way he fidgets and picks at his fingers, chewing on his lip, the worry that hides behind his eyes when he thinks nobody's watching. There's more to him. Something tells me I'm the only one to truly see this about him. The only one he lets see it. I feel privileged to be that one. And though I know that honor is only due to our friendship and nothing more, a part of me wishes that he would see me as more._

Cobb closed the book, placing it back on his shelf. Though he was certain that Eames had already learned what he had just read, he knew now, without a doubt, that Winchester has had feelings for Jones for quite some time. Glancing at his watch, he realized he didn't have much time left. Moving along to the last book on the shelf, Cobb pulled it out, reading the date on the cover, 2010. He opened the volume and flipped to one of the last pages of writing and began to read.

\- - -

Eames turned to Winchester, placing a hand on each side of the other man's face. He pulled him close, kissing him softly on the forehead, breathing deep a moment before speaking. "I've been waiting just as long to speak those words. Sometimes I thought I'd never feel ready to," he whispered.

Jack smiled, close-mouthed, and his expression was relieved and complacent; as if he could just die on the spot and be perfectly all right with that. He leaned in closer to Eames's touch, and Eames's forge of Jones was impeccable: he even smelled like the real Charlie.

"I..." Winchester started, but he paused; swallowed. "Charlie, do you want to go to the cabin?"

Arthur almost swallowed his teeth when he saw Eames nod, and he was instantly furious, seeing white. Reid had definitely been right, Eames was so into his forgery that he had completely forgotten the mission, and that was unforgivable.

He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Eames, though he knew it didn't matter what number he called: in dreams, if he knew who he wanted to call, numbers didn't matter. All that mattered was stopping these two from interfering with Cobb's extraction.

As Eames leaned down once more to kiss Winchester, his mobile rang. Cursing, he pulled the phone from his pocket and held it to his ear, knowing it could only be one person. "Jones."

"Just what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" Arthur hissed, his voice absolutely saturated with venom. Eames actually can't remember Arthur ever taking such a tone with him before. It was pained and disappointed and so, so angry all at the same time. "You can't fucking go to the cabin, Cobb's there! Pull out, _now_!"

Eames glanced up at Winchester as he listened to Arthur shout at him. He rolled his eyes, mouthing the words, _the station_. "All right... Yes... No problem, sarge... I'm on my way there now. _Yes_. Goodbye." He flipped the phone closed and turned back to Winchester, a pained expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching a hand out, wrapping it around Winchester's arm. "The station," he said by way of explanation. "I have to go, take care of some paperwork I left. I can meet you later tonight, though." Eames slid his hand down, taking Winchester's hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. "I'll call you when I can." Eames turned from Winchester and walked over to Jones's vehicle.

Winchester nodded in response, sadness ghosted over his features before being replaced by the smile he had worn earlier. "I understand. Goodbye, Charlie."

Climbing in, he waved goodbye to Winchester, a smile wide on the other man's face. He pulled out of the space and started down the road, where he had agreed to meet with Arthur earlier. Eames followed Winchester in his rearview mirror, watching him turn and walk back into the bar. The smile faded from his own face then, realizing the anger he was going to face in Arthur.

Arthur was already there, pacing back and forth like a big cat. The Jeep was nowhere to be seen; either Arthur had parked it in the foliage or he had walked. Had he really walked? Judging by how quickly he was pacing, it didn't seem like it would've taken him too long.

As Eames pulled over, Arthur looked up and Eames could see his face in the headlights. He was making _the face_ : lips pursed, creases the size of the San Andreas fault in his forehead, his jaw set in a firm line, those expressive eyebrows looking like check marks above his eyes.

Eames knew it well, it always turned his stomach. It was the face Arthur always made when he was extremely angry. Eames had witnessed this face more than he'd have liked to in the past few years, both directed at him, and not directed at him. More often than not.

Arthur stopped when Eames got out of the car and the fire in his eyes intensified for a split second. "For fuck's sake, Eames," He spat, gesturing snappishly towards the other man. "Your forgery. Knock it off."

Eames looked into the window at his face, Jones still looking back. He stretched, holding himself higher, his old habits returning, allowing the forgery to slip away.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Arthur," he said, his eyes narrowed at the point man as he climbed back into the vehicle. "I was just keeping up appearances. Didn't want Winchester to think anything was off. Did you?" He started down the road once Arthur was in, his driving less than stellar. Taking turns wide, gunning it from every stop sign and light, he slammed the car into each gear as he drove.

On a particularly steep curve, Arthur swore the car had reached a frozen state of motion, Eames was going so fast. His hand flew out and gripped the arm rest of the passenger's side door.

Of course, Eames's skills behind the wheel did nothing to quell Arthur's writhing anger, which was now reaching white hot proportions in his stomach. He could even tell he was in danger of losing his temper; his eye was twitching.

"Goddamnit, slow the hell down," He snapped. "Are you trying to get us killed? And you told Cobb his driving was bad? That's the pot calling the kettle black!"

Eames glanced over at Arthur, his expression unimpressed. He pulled off the road, slamming on the brakes, the tires squealing to a halt. Arthur flew forward in the seat, stopped suddenly by his seat belt. He looked up from nearly hitting the windshield, livid.

"Oh," Eames started, his calm voice disguising the anger that bubbled underneath. "I'm sorry. Was my driving that terrible?" He pulled the keys out of the ignition and dangled them in front of Arthur, who was staring daggers through him. _If looks could kill_ , Eames mused.

"Would you rather drive?" He shook the keys for emphasis. "I'm certain _you_ could do _so_ much better."

Arthur couldn't tell if the snap he heard was out in the forest or in within himself, but he didn't have time to think about it, or think about anything else for that matter. He blinked and saw the blood streaming from Eames's nose, and the white hot, uncontrollable rage surging through him, blurring everything except the man in the driver's seat, let him know he had just flung his fist out and socked Eames in the face.

His aim had always been deadly and fast. And damn, had it felt _good._

Eames' hands flew up to cup his nose, pain welling up, making his eyes water. "Fuck!"

He glared at Arthur, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping at the blood. "What the bloody hell was that about?"

"You know very fucking well what that was about!" Arthur growled, and his voice was slightly louder than his usual 'danger tone'. He was leaning forward a little bit in his seat.

"You were so caught up in your little charade, if it was that, you were going to take him to the cabin. Where Cobb is? Don't you remember the briefing or were you too eager to _get busy_?" He enunciated the last two words heavily.

Eames rolled his eyes. "Do you really think I'm that fucking stupid, Arthur?"

He swiped at his nose one last time, glancing at the handkerchief to see the blood smeared on it. "I was keeping _in character_ ," he added, balling up the handkerchief and tossing it at Arthur's feet, fighting the urge to follow it with his own punch to Arthur's face.

The gesture made Arthur's eye twitch, and the twitch was never, ever a good sign.

"Don't give me that bullshit. I fucking know when you're acting and when you're not, I've done enough jobs with you," Arthur spat, his fists balled so tightly he could feel his own skin break under his fingernails. "Though why Cobb keeps bringing you back, I'm not so sure."

He suddenly smirked a bit, and his expression was venomous and cruel. "I know you enjoyed that. Any jackass could see that very clearly, pressed against the mark's leg."

Eames returned Arthur's smirk fully, shaking his head, "Any jackass, huh?" He paused, stroking his stubble-roughened chin. "Do you know what I think, Arthur?"

Eames leaned into Arthur, his face a hair's breadth away from the point man's. "I think you're jealous."

Arthur's face flickered for a split second, but it was enough, and it only fueled Eames's sneer. A new flood of rage rained down upon Arthur, and he swung a hand out and grabbed Eames around the throat with one hand. His grip was powerful.

"Don't flatter yourself," He hissed. "You think everyone wants to fuck you, don't you? I know you'll have sex with anything that moves, but it’s not a two-way street."

Eames's eyes widened as Arthur's fingers flexed around his throat. He tried to return Arthur's words, but his grip was too tight and all he could do was cough.

Eames reached up and grabbed Arthur's wrist, twisting hard, trying to break his grip. With his other hand, he threw his fist at Arthur's face, connecting solidly with his eye, causing Arthur to jump back, cursing.

"Fuck!" Arthur muttered, holding a hand over his eye, the telltale throb of a black eye already settling in. He grunted and his face twisted in pain, and he barely heard what Eames was saying, but he still heard it all the same.

Eames took a second to catch his breath, his hand rubbing his neck where Arthur's fingers cut into his skin moments earlier. "You know what, Arthur?" He said, his voice was hoarse, but his words were icy. "Fuck you. You have no fucking clue what I think. You can't even bother to look past your own deluded preconceptions of who I am." Eames turned from Arthur, his expression dark, and jammed the key back into the ignition.

Arthur was glad he had the pain of his eye to concentrate on as Eames started the car and started taking it the rest of the way to the cabin; he didn't want to think about what Eames said. He hated that he had nothing to say in return, hated the way Eames did that to him, rendering him incapable of retort with just a few sentences.

But he honestly didn't know what to say. His anger had down-stepped from a roaring tidal wave to a steady throb, much like the pulse he could feel in his eye, as he kept his hand over it the entire way to the cabin, keeping his head turned away from Eames.

\- - -

Cobb had been reading through the journal, flipping backward through the last few passages trying to find the why of what had happened. It had taken him several minutes of reading, but he had finally found it.

 _I found myself in the office of the head of the organization. Terry and Roger were standing on either side of me as Jonathan spoke to me. He came out with accusations, truths that I'd never kept hidden, but never thought would be used against me. Not from those that I had trusted so implicitly._

 _He told me in no uncertain terms what was expected of me. They had let my cousin take my patrol car. He pulled over an innocent woman. Raped her. I was going to take the fall. Go to jail. Ruin my good name, my life, my future. In exchange? They would let Charlie live._

 _He would live. But thinking that I was the one who had raped that poor girl. He'd never look at me the same again. He probably wouldn't even talk to me again. I was given no choice, though. I'd rather see Charlie alive, believing me something I wasn't, than see the man I love dead and gone._

 _I'm sorry it has to end like this, Charlie. You are the only thing in my entire life that ever felt right. I love you._

Cobb ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath. He had found exactly what he was looking for. Then some more. He closed the journal and put it back on the shelf. Cobb had suspected something of the sort to be the reason behind this whole situation. But the depth of what he had read, the emotion of those words, had taken him by surprise. He stood up slowly, looking around the small cabin one last time, fully understanding the meaning of the place to Winchester and Jones at last. Turning and walking out the door, he began making his way back to the SUV.

\- - -

Cobb got back to the SUV just as Eames and Arthur were pulling over in Jones's car. He could see both of them through the windshield, both considerably worse for wear. When Eames and Arthur got out of the car, he could see something had gone down.

Cobb narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what exactly had occurred. Were they ambushed? Projections? Did the forgery not work? "What happened?" He asked quickly, walking over to them.

Arthur took his hand away from his face, and his eye was red and swollen and starting to bruise. It looked fairly nasty: Eames had some considerable power behind his hits.

"Everything is fine, Dom," He said calmly, meeting Cobb's frantic gaze.

He paused, he stole a quick glance at Eames out of the corner of his good eye. _It's just that one or both of us are assholes, that's all._

"We just had a slight... difference of opinion. And no, Dom," He continued, raising his voice a tad when Cobb opened his mouth. "I really don't want to talk about it right now, _please_." He drew out the last please a little bit.

Cobb looked between the two men, trying to understand the meaning behind Arthur's words. He knew he was glossing over the truth and he had an idea of what was really going on behind it. But Cobb knew better than to question them at the moment. They had a job to get done.

Shaking his head, Cobb started, "While you two were trying to kill each other, I found the information we needed." He sighed, leaning against the SUV. "The organization Winchester was a member of set him up. They gave his cousin his patrol car so that he could commit the rape. And then forced Winchester to take the blame."

Eames nodded as Cobb spoke, "But how did they convince him to agree with it?"

Cobb glanced at his watch as the telltale sounds of _Non, je ne regrette rien_ filled the dreamspace.

 _Non! Rien de rien._

Cobb turned back to Eames and responded simply, "They threatened him with Jones's life."

 _Non! Je ne regrette rien._

The dreamspace around them began crumbling as the sedative wore off. Arthur looked around the space, asking Cobb, "Did you get names?"

Cobb nodded, "I have everything we need."

\- - -

The three men woke up laying on the side of the road, Winchester still asleep beside them.

The first thing Arthur and Cobb noticed upon regaining consciousness is that they couldn't move. Arthur's wrists hurt, and he instinctively jerked, and sharp plastic cut into his wrists - zip ties. He was fucking tied up with zip ties. There was a click.

"Stay where you are. Don't move an inch."

It was Reid's voice, but it was nothing like it was before. Low, dangerous, and an accent Arthur could not place.

The first thing Eames noticed is a gun in his face, and Reid staring down at him, her face hard. She knew he was the biggest threat to her operation. She would leave her barrel pointed at him; he would solve this little puzzle faster than the others.

"Reid? What the fuck?" Arthur managed to get out. The cold ground was hard, and there was a light snow falling in the first level. He tried to sit up.

"I said fucking stay where you are!" Reid growled, and he heard a gun click. He stilled. The realization was a sucker punch: they'd been tricked. Reid wanted something from them; and she'd tricked them, all of them. Except Eames. Eames had been right.

"Don't even try fighting back. I will shoot you, but you will not wake up. The PASIV is loaded with Linocin." She smiled a bit at Cobb's wide expression. "If you die." She gestured in a downward motion. "Straight to limbo."

"Now you will do as I say, quite compliantly," She continued, keeping her gun pressed to Eames's temple.

Waves of shock and panic pulsed through Arthur's body and he shifted to get a better look at their captor. He'd fucked up. He'd really, _really_ fucked up. How the hell had this gotten past him?

Cobb tried to free himself of his restraints, but Reid had made certain they could barely move. His mind was reeling at the new developments. How the hell had he managed to miss this about Reid? He knew he may not have looked as deeply into her history as he could have, but still, something of this magnitude should have turned up.

He coughed, twisting to look at Reid. "What exactly do you want?"

"You must leave," She started, firmly, no hesitation in her voice. "This town, this case, these men." She locked eyes with Winchester for a second, and he stared passively back at her, fully awake and sitting up.

He knew who she was, after all. Part of Winchester's job was to know a lot of the other employees of the association he and Jones were a part of. Reid was from their Dreams & Other Supernatural Forces unit. She was sent to shut them down.

"Mr. Winchester is here for a reason. We can't afford any information to be leaked at this point in the game. You know how this system works, Mr. Cobb." She said smoothly.

"You're part of the New Arms Division, aren't you?" Arthur finally found his voice and asked before he could stop himself. He'd heard of them. He was only able to bring up small pieces about them at a time, they were incredibly secretive and selective.

"Your point man is good," Reid smirked at Cobb. "But not good enough, apparently, to not see this coming. But then again, we are good at what we do."

"Now, do we have an agreement, Mr. Cobb? Or am I going to have to send you all to limbo, one by one, starting with the Brit?" She pushed the mouth of her gun against Eames's temple to prove her point.

Arthur couldn't suppress the twitch that went through his body when she threatened Eames. He was too busy thinking of a way to escape and putting this whole situation together to stifle it.

She noticed.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh? I thought you didn't like each other," She said, her voice high and curious.

"I never said that," He murmured, meeting her eyes. He probably shouldn't have said it at all, and he tried to sound convincing, but he wasn't sure it was very effective. She laughed, and pulled the pistol away from Eames's head.

"You don't have to say it, it's evident in every move you make, _darling_ ," She said, emphasizing the last word for effect. Keeping her eyes on all the men, she moved away from Eames toward Arthur. The gun was pointed at him now.

Arthur thought quickly.

"You should be pointing that gun at me first, anyway," he said sharply, sitting up straighter. "If your point man did his job correctly, that is."

He watched a little split second flash of confusion cross her face. An untrained eye would’ve never noticed.

"Is that so?" She said, pressing the gun in the middle of his forehead. "Perhaps I shall have a word with her."

Eames watched the exchange between Reid and Arthur, his heart seizing when she turned from him and aimed the gun at the point man. He could handle the weapon being aimed in his direction, but when she threatened Arthur, he felt something in him snap.

He moved as quickly and nimbly as he could digging into his pocket for the knife he could feel that Reid had somehow missed. He kept his gaze focused on Reid, as her full attention was turned to Arthur. Eames nodded to Arthur as he spoke, encouraging him to keep it up.

Reid crouched down before Arthur, her gun still firmly pressed against his forehead. "And what exactly is it that she should have known?" She narrowed her eyes at Arthur, trying to discern the secret he was hiding from her.

Eames managed to dig out the knife and began to work at the zip ties. At one point, the knife slipped and he felt it nick his arm. He managed to hold in the cry that wanted to escape his lips, compressing it to a low hiss.

Reid glanced over at Eames, smirking. "It hurts, doesn't it? Are those ties cutting into your wrists?" She let her eyes roam over Eames, "Best not struggle too much. Wouldn't want to hurt your pretty body now would we?"

Eames watched her talk, his glare practically boring holes in her head, until she finally turned her attention back to Arthur. "Now what were you saying?" She asked him.

Eames got back to work the minute she turned away, finally breaking through one of the ties. He pulled his wrists free and tossed his knife to Cobb. He could hear Arthur start to speak as he climbed to his feet, but he cut in, "He wasn't saying anything."

Reid turned around, surprised to see Eames's hands free and on his feet. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked, turning the gun to Eames.

Eames held his hands up, showing Reid that he had no weapon. He stepped toward her, inching closer. He watched her step backward, away from him, closer to Cobb.

Cobb watched as Reid stepped toward him. When she did, Eames jumped at her, reaching for the gun. Reid pulled the trigger, the sound of the gun firing deafening to his ears. Cobb could hear Arthur shouting as the gun fired and Eames collapsed on the ground at her feet. He tried to ignore it and the sight of Eames prone on the ground. Instead, he threw out a leg under Reid's feet, knocking her backward, her gun flying from her hand and landing somewhere across the street.

Arthur couldn't remember crying out when he heard the gunshot; he couldn't remember if he had swore, or said Eames's name, or if the yell tore from his mouth made any sense at all. He heard the sickening crack of bone against the pavement as Reid fell and her scream far out volumed his. Apparently no one had taught her in the military or likewise the right way to fall.

Arthur's insides were clenching in on themselves with panic as he tried to stand and move over to Eames's body, but the zip ties held firm. He felt someone grab at his hands and give him a short yank backwards, and it was Cobb, who had already freed himself, who was already on top of things.

Cobb cut Arthur's ties and watched the point man as he moved past the writhing woman on the ground.

He found Eames was still alive, laying face down on the pavement, his breath become shallower by the second, making soft noises of pain. Arthur carefully flipped him over, a dark bloodstain remaining on the slick dark grey stone.

"You fucking idiot," Arthur murmured, placing a hand and pushing down on the wound on the forger's lower chest, and with each heartbeat blood seeped through his fingers. He bit his lower lip. Eames wasn't going to make it.

Eames tried to focus his eyes on Arthur, but the color was draining from his face, his mouth set in a grimace. The look of a man fading into death was familiar, but this time, it punched Arthur right in the chest, and he lost his breath.

"You had to be the hero, didn't you?" Arthur managed to strangle out, and he hoped Eames didn't catch the way his voice was mangled.

Eames tried to smile at Arthur, even the small movement was proving difficult. He took a shallow breath, coughing up blood. "Anything," he whispered hoarsely, "for you." He tried to hold on for just a few more seconds, the pain was intensifying. Soon, he knew, he'd wake up in limbo. _Darling._ He tried to form the word, but found his voice had faded, his vision alongside it.

"Damn it," Panic flashed through Arthur's eyes, _fuck, he wasn't going to make it._ He pressed harder on the wound, but only for a second, because he knew it was too late.

He shook his head and leaned down a little bit, closer to Eames's ear as the music started to get louder and louder. They were about to get kicked, but he knew Eames would die before the timer was up.

 _Non, je ne regrette rien!_

"I'll come after you, okay?" He said, his voice low, and he wasn't sure if Eames could hear him or not, because his eyes had closed and he couldn't tell if he was still breathing or not, the music was so loud and his vision was clouded, and he blinked.

\- - -

Arthur opened his eyes. He jerked up and saw the white wall of a jail cell.

Eames had closed his eyes, hearing the brass of _Non, je ne regrette rien_ build up, filling his head along with Arthur's words. When he was able to open them again, the pain and blood was gone. So was Arthur. Light filled the space, making it hard for him to see. He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust, before looking around. What he saw made his heart leap. He wasn't in Limbo. Reid was lying. He had woken up in the jail cell, while the rest of the team were still in the dream.

He moved quickly, pulling the IV from his arm and tossing it on the PASIV. He stepped over to Jones, who was waiting at the door of the cell, watching them closely. He borrowed the man's cuffs and clipped them on a still unconscious Reid. Standing up, he glanced over at the PASIV, down to five seconds. He crouched in front of Arthur, watching the point man come to as the sedative wore off.

When Cobb opened his eyes in the jail cell, the first thing he did was look to where Eames had fallen asleep. Seeing the spot empty, he breathed a sigh of relief. Reid had been bluffing. He glanced around the small cell, spying Winchester still asleep, Reid cuffed on the floor, and Eames crouching before Arthur, whose eyes were just opening. Cobb glanced down at his watch, realizing they had less than five minutes to clear out of there.

Eames's face swam into view, and Arthur was instantly confused. He was already in limbo?

"Eames?" He questioned, his brows furrowed. Eames looked like was about to answer him, but Cobb was suddenly beside Eames, taking Arthur's arm and hauling him upright swiftly, talking a little too quickly for Arthur's brain to process.

"We're almost out of time. We need to haul ass," Cobb said, and Arthur heard those. He glanced for a second at Eames, but he was quickly distracted by packing the PASIV, and soon he was out in the cold air of the daytime again, helping Cobb haul an unconscious Reid (who Cobb had injected with a low dose of his own sedative so she would stay asleep).

It finally hit him that he was not in limbo. There was no high powered sedative in the PASIV. It was a bluff.

Eames wasn't in limbo.

He let the relief flood his features. No one was paying attention to him anyway. Cobb was busy explaining the events of the dreams to Jones, who followed them out to the cars. The man's face seemed relieved, but not surprised when he had found out Winchester had not raped anyone. As they unceremoniously loaded Reid into the trunk of one car, they had just gotten to the second level, and the journals. Why Winchester had taken the fall.

Jones could feel all the tension from the past several weeks melt from his frame as he heard Cobb quickly recite what had happened in the dream. Jack hadn't raped that girl. He had been right. His troubled, drug addict cousin had done it instead. Cobb quickly went on to explain why he had done so and Jones reached a hand out to Cobb, gripping the other man on the arm. "So you're saying, Jack, he did it because..." He trailed off, the implications of what had happened hitting him.

Cobb watched Jones process the information he had given him, "That's right." He replied as Jones blinked in surprise. "He did it for _you._ " He reached his hand up and cupped it over Jones', reassuring the other man. "Something tells me that Winchester feels for you very strongly." He watched as Jones nodded, his eyes shining. Cobb leaned in, whispering, "It's not my place, I know... But what that man has been through. _For you._ It speaks volumes. Don't take it for granted." He patted his hand on Jones's one last time before turning back to the Jeep. They needed to get back to the hotel before the lot filled with police cruisers again.

Jones watched as Cobb left, the words he had whispered to him had left their mark. He wiped at his face quickly and turned back into the station. He had some work to do.

Cobb climbed into the Jeep, "Let's go, Arthur. We need to get out of here." He pulled out his phone, blocking the number and calling the station. "Yes, I'd like to give an anonymous tip... This is regarding the rape of Tina Henry."


	6. Chapter 6

\- - -

In only five hour's time, Winchester couldn't believe he was watching the Sheriff unlock the door to his cell. He wasn't being transferred to the county prison. He wasn't going to trial.

He was going to be free.

Deputy Oley and two other cops showed up at his cell door an hour ago, and the information was still processing in his mind.

 _They've picked up your cousin in Yosemite Valley. Withheld evidence. His fingerprints matched the ones at the scene. His DNA is being tested, we'll know in a few weeks._

He broke under two hours questioning. He confessed.

 _You're free to go_.

He stood up, now shaking with anxiousness. This had better not be some fucking joke. He stared at the open door for a moment, and the Deputy made an annoyed gesture.

"Well, come on, then," He said.

Winchester was about to open his mouth and protest, _because this had to be some sort of fucking joke_ , but he caught sight of Jones. _Charlie_. Standing behind the deputy and the other cops. Watching him silently.

The moment that Jones first saw him in his cell was possibly one of the worst moments of his life, alongside the one where he was told that Jack had raped Miss Henry. He still felt his heart seize in grief at just the mere memory. In contrast, the moment when Jones stood behind the Deputy and watched him release Jack made his heart thrill, a smile break out on his face.

He led Jack and the Deputy out of the holding cells and to the processing desk where they returned the items Jack came in with before releasing him. Then, Jones waited patiently for Jack to change. He stood at the front of the precinct, tapping on the handle of his gun nervously, looking out the window at the news crews waiting for their story. He had seen the look on Jack's face when he spotted him among those releasing him and he hoped that it had meant what he thought. He hoped that Cobb hadn't been wrong.

Jack was smoothing the wrinkles out of the shirt he had been wearing when he'd been arrested as he walked into the lobby. He raised his gaze and met Charlie's eyes.

God, he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He'd had a dream during his nap this afternoon. He'd dreamt Charlie had returned his affections in public. He'd kissed him outside the bar. Up until now, he'd only ever returned his affections in private. He knew how Charlie struggled with this. With everything.

He paused a little distance away from Charlie, studying the other man for a little, taking him in, unsure of how he should act. What he truly wanted to do was run to him, wrap his arms around him and never, ever let him go.

He stifled that urge, remembering how angry PDA had made his partner in the past. It was physically painful to do so, making Jack's stomach wrench. He had missed Charlie so much. And he thought he was never going to see him again. He felt his eyes mist over.

"Charlie," He said quietly, nodding a bit. His voice was quiet, he was afraid it would crack if he was any louder.

Charlie felt his heart leap when he saw Jack walk out into the lobby. For several moments, Jack didn't make a move, he stopped in his tracks. Charlie could feel his eyes on him, looking at him like he was never going to see him again. Charlie's mouth curled into a small smile, knowing that that wasn't true. If he had any say in the matter, they would see each other every day for the rest of their lives. Hearing his name on Jack's lips, he instantly was reminded of all the times it was said before in that way. Laced with longing, uncertainty, and fear. He regretted every time he didn't respond, assuring Jack that he had felt the same, that he wasn't alone.

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He knew that this was one of those moments in life that he'd never forget, that he'd tell people about for years to come. He didn't want to disappoint anyone, especially Jack. Opening his eyes, he could see Jack still standing there, rooted to the spot, looking more unsure than he had ever looked before.

"Jack," Charlie finally spoke, taking the few remaining steps to his partner. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Jack, his heart racing, beating into his throat. Jack stood there a moment before responding in kind and when he did, Charlie couldn't hold back the smile that was playing at his lips. He held onto Jack like he never wanted to let go, like he had wanted to all along. He could feel tears stinging at his eyes, but he didn't care. Everything was suddenly right with the world.

Jack felt his face get wet before he could even stop himself, and he surprised himself, considering he hardly ever cried. But he couldn't stop the steady stream from his eyes that ran down his face and onto Charlie's shoulder, where his chin was resting.

He pulled his arms tighter around Charlie's waist and shut his eyes, laying his damp cheek against the smooth side of Charlie's warm neck. God, it was was such a release to feel his partner's arms around him, tight and vice-like, telling him with no uncertainty they'd never have to hide again.

He opened his mouth to talk, to say something, anything. But all that came out was a soft, strangled gasp.

Charlie could feel Jack’s tears against his neck, mirroring the tears he felt moving down his own cheeks. He gave Jack one last squeeze before pulling away, his hands resting on Jack's arms, holding him near. "Keep this up, and you'll never be able to leave the station." Charlie smiled, reaching one hand up to wipe the tears from Jack's face. "You have reporters waiting for you."

Jack took a deep breath and sniffed, palming away the rest of the wetness from his face. He laughed lightly at Charlie's remark. "You're one to talk," He chuckled, in the tone he always used when he was teasing Charlie.

Charlie leaned forward, pressing his lips to Jack's forehead, reveling in the feeling of not caring who saw him or what they thought. He stood like that for a moment, before finally stepping back. Looking into Jack's face, watching him with concern, he asked, "Are you ready?"

He felt Charlie's lips against his forehead, and it almost drove him back over the edge. But he caught himself, clearing his throat, and he met Charlie's gaze with a small smile, and his eyes said more than he ever could possibly put into words.

"I've been ready for a long time," He replied, reaching a hand forward and sliding his fingers in between Charlie's, entwining them, pressing his palm against his. His heart lept. He couldn't recall ever feeling so light. He really was free, in more ways than one.

"As long as you are." He added, giving Charlie's hand a quick squeeze.

Charlie gripped Jack's hand, the small touch making him feel incredibly light on his feet. He smiled at his partner and led him out of the station and into the crush of reporters, ready to experience the first day of the rest of his life with Jack.

\- - -

On the TV screen the reporter spoke about the new developments in the rape case of Tina Henry, including the release of Jack Winchester, who had been cleared of all charges. She cut to a reporter live on the scene. The camera followed two men as they walked out of the station, Winchester and Jones, their hands entwined.

Arthur chewed the pad of his thumb thoughtfully, feeling warmth spread through his chest at the sight of the two men's clasped hands on his television screen. The idea had spread, and Jones had gone with it. Seeing their plans had gone so well always gave Arthur a terrific feeling of satisfaction.

His next realization made him fairly uncomfortable though. The use of forgery to imply that Jones was okay with their relationship being public had been entirely Eames's idea.

He shifted his weight against the propped up pillows of the bed. The light from the television was the only light in the room, as it was pitch dark outside. Arthur wished they could've just left after they paid the remaining fees, but their flight out was scheduled for the next day.

Back on the television, the reporter met the two men as they walked down the stairs, preparing to interview Winchester. As the pair came to a stop before her, Jones stepped aside and placed a supportive hand at the small of Winchester's back, looking on at the other man as he spoke, admiration and love clear on his face.

Arthur watched Winchester's reaction to the comforting hand, his body language relaxed and casual and comfortable, as if the two men had had their relationship public for years.

"I see you are here with your partner," The reporter asked, trailing off topic as she started to wind down her interview.

Winchester smiled at Jones before he turned back to the reporter. "Yes, this is my partner, Charlie Jones," He replied, gently placing his hand on the other man's arm.

"Charlie and I are announcing our retirement as officers of the law," he continued, and the reporter looked surprised, but Arthur wasn't.

He knew of their organization, they had hacked into Reid's palm device and read all the documentation. They've heard of the New Arms Division, a secret underground law enforcement that specialized in the research, training and execution of new forms of energy and force. Only the best and most talented recruits were chosen to be a part of it.

Jones and Winchester had both been a part of this group, being in charge of the information that passed through this shit hole town on the way to the nearby headquarters, among other things. Winchester's position was less important than Jones's, so that's why Winchester had been chosen to be charged with rape when the NAD had found out about their already extremely private relationship.

NAD had a very strict personal relationship rule. The head officers of NAD were also known to be homophobic as well. Jones and Winchester, if they wished to live open lives, would have to change their names, and live new lives, leaving everything they'd ever known behind.

But he saw the love in their eyes, and he knew that both men had no problem with that.

Arthur shivered, suddenly freezing, and he wrapped his arms around himself. He hadn't bothered to change into night clothes yet, but most of the buttons on his shirt had been unbuttoned.

He exhaled and realized he can see his breath. "What the fuck," He muttered, getting off the bed and moving to the radiator. He leaned over and held his breath, listening to the noises and trying to feel heat coming from it.

Nothing. _Absolutely fucking nothing._

"Goddamnit," He swore, louder, and he picked his coat that had been draped over the chair and wrapped it around him. The fucking hotel's radiators were terrible.

He had to spend seven more hours in this awful place. Even if he got under the covers, he knew he'd still be cold.

 _I've been in cold places longer before_ , he mused to himself. _I can tough this out_.

He frowned, recalling how Eames had easily fixed the radiator in the old hotel room a few days ago.

But Eames hadn't spoken a single word to him since they woke up from the dream, much less looked at him. Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead with his palm. It wasn't like he had tried to talk to Eames, either. It was like the two men were trying to forget the other existed.

But he didn't really feel like freezing his ass off in the hotel room tonight. _Somebody_ could fix the damn thing. He finally worked up the courage to leave his room and walk over to where Cobb and Eames were sleeping, or not sleeping; he wasn't sure, and knock on the door.

\- - -

Eames and Cobb were both in their room after returning to the hotel, winding down from the day's events. Cobb had already passed out, leaving Eames up by himself, watching the eleven o'clock news. Their breaking story was about Winchester's being released, cleared of all charges. Watching Winchester walk out of the station, hand in hand with Jones, brought a smile to his face. He knew that he had played a pivotal role in helping the two finally feel free with their feelings for each other and for that he was thankful.

The only regret he had was that through it all, Arthur still wouldn't admit his own feelings, the ones that Eames had seen so clearly that day in the bar. They had appeared briefly that day, so brief, Eames believed, that maybe they weren't real at all, but maybe something he had imagined in his own need for the point man to acknowledge him as something more than an irritant.

But. Something about the way Arthur had looked at him in those last moments of the dream, when he had believed that Eames was going to Limbo. The broken look on his face, the desperation and fear, his words. They all haunted him, replayed in his thoughts as he watched the joy between the two men play on screen.

Eames aimed the remote at the tv and turned it off. The sudden quiet in the room left a vacuum quickly filled by Arthur's voice.

 _"You had to be the hero, didn't you?"_

 _"I'll come after you, okay?"_

"Eames, it's me. Are you there?"

Eames glanced up at the door, suddenly realizing the last thing he heard was accompanied by a knock. "Just a moment," Eames responded, climbing out of the bed and grabbing a shirt. He wondered what Arthur wanted at this time of night. He had assumed the point man would be out cold like Cobb.

Eames opened the door to Arthur, who was shivering in the cold. Eames pulled his shirt over his muscled torso and raised an eyebrow. "What do you need?"

"My uh, my radiator is broken," Arthur managed to say without letting his teeth chatter, and he tried to still his trembling, but this had to be the coldest night there yet. He peeked past Eames, and saw Cobb was out cold. Of course.

"You think you could fix it real quick?" He asked, trying to keep his voice casual, but it kind of felt like he was trying to ask Eames something much more important. At least he was pretty sure he wasn't.

Eames watched Arthur shivering in the cold and had a sudden urge to pull him inside with him and wrap him up in his bed. Shaking off that urge, he nodded in response to Arthur's question, knowing that it had taken him a lot to come and ask him for the help he needed. "Sure," he said, "Just let me grab a couple things." He turned into the room and pulled on a jacket and shoes and swiped his room key from the night stand.

Stopping at the doorway, Eames stared at Arthur for a moment, trying to see what was going on in his mind. He had been quiet the whole way back to the hotel, disappearing to his room almost immediately after they got back. He wanted to know what exactly Arthur was thinking, why he was acting the way he was. Instead, all he received in return was a blank look and a slight shiver.

"Ready, darling." Eames finally said, forcing a small smile on his face. He pulled the door closed behind him and motioned for Arthur to lead the way.

The way Eames smiled at him, tiny and cautious and not unlike a lost little boy, went right through Arthur and made a shudder run down his spine and he tried to hide it by turning around and starting the short walk back to the room. He was quite happy it was so cold..

He led Eames briskly back to his hotel room, his arms wrapped around himself, and he could almost feel the heat radiating off Eames's body. He'd always been a self-appointed furnace. Maybe he could just...

Arthur shook his head a bit, unlocking the door to his room. No. Eames was just here to fix the radiator. Then he'd go back to his room, and Arthur would stay here, and everything would just stay the same it always had been. The way it always will be.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his temples, feeling a headache starting to blossom in his skull as he watched Eames kneel next to and tinker with the radiator, the man's hands skilled and nimble.

Eames knelt before the radiator, checking out the wiring and switches. He found the problem and set to work on it, all the while his mind wandering. Arthur had been silent since they left for his room, leaving nothing between them but a very palpable tension. Eames could sense there was _something_ on Arthur's mind, and while he hoped it was the same thing as was on his, he was still unsure.

He realized that unless he started talking about something, _anything_ , Arthur and he may never get anywhere. And spending the rest of his time on the team with this heavy silence between he and Arthur was not something Eames was prepared to deal with. Pulling on a wire, Eames broke the silence. "Did you watch the report on the news tonight?"

Arthur nodded, pressing the heels of his palm against his eyes, the headache getting worse. Of course he had; watching the news report aftermath of their jobs was something Cobb had always pushed to be a habit. But, of course, Cobb was asleep.

"I just hope they've already left town, the NAD is probably already on their way to further relieve them of their duties," Arthur stated in a tired voice, releasing his eyes and blinking to restore his vision.

"I'm sure they have." Eames reached out and turned the radiator on, thinking about the two men and how comfortable and happy they seemed to be with each other, finally freeing themselves to be honest with each other and the world. "They seemed like they were pretty intent on starting their new life together." Hearing the hum as it started up, he stood up and closed the panel on the radiator. "All set," he said, wiping his hands on his pants.

Eames stood for a moment, his back to the room, looking down at the radiator. Now that it was repaired, he assumed he would just head back to his room, where Cobb was busy snoring. Though, if he were honest with himself, now that he finally had Arthur on his own, he was reluctant to let the moment pass. He wanted to talk, to really talk. To break the silence that Arthur had created and finally understand the truth behind his actions.

Eames turned to face Arthur, who was sitting on the bed, rubbing at his eyes, looking decidedly worse for wear. "Are you feeling all right?" Eames asked, looking on. He had dark circles under his eyes and his normally perfectly slicked hair was falling into his face. He looked miserable.

Arthur exhaled slowly through his nose and finally met Eames's gaze, and he did indeed look tired. His expression was not annoyed or irritated, just exhausted.

 _After what I said in the dream, he asks if I'm feeling okay._

Arthur couldn't help but let a grin tug at the corner of his mouth as he looked down for a moment at the irony.

"It's just a headache, I'll be fine. Just... ready to get out of here."

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, and he knew he couldn't play games anymore. He looked back up at Eames who was looking at him with such a soft look it almost hurt.

"Eames, there's something you should know." He motioned to the bed beside him, and he saw Eames hesitate, but still tentatively sat down beside him, and he looked so confused now, his brow knitted and looking at Arthur carefully.

But Arthur had a mission, and he was damned if he wasn't going to carry it through.

"You remember that dream where we were rehearsing the rape scene." He started, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

"Of course," Eames replied, and Arthur could hear the soft concern in his voice, and Arthur bit his lip.

"That... that wasn't your projection... that I fought with." He managed to say, and he looked at Eames, watching the poor man take an even more confused expression, then realization slowly spread across his face.

"It wasn't your fault. It was mine. That's... what you saw then, is a part of me that acts independently, in dreams." He gave a deep sigh, resting his now throbbing head in his hands. "I haven't been able to control it until lately. I almost ruined the mission."

He paused, shaking his head. "That part of me, is the part of me I never wanted you, or anyone to know about. That part of me, if I hadn't gotten to the scene so quickly, would've probably had sex with you right on the car hood."

He didn't even have to look at Eames to see the look of utter astonishment on his face, and his heart sunk.

"Eames, I am so fucking sorry."

Eames stared at Arthur, knowing his mouth was hanging open, his mind reeling. It felt like several minutes, but he was certain it was much shorter, while he worked at what exactly Arthur had told him.

After the events the day before, he had a very good idea that Arthur had felt _something_ toward him, however small that something was. But then, when he closed himself off again, Eames was reminded of his actions before that day. The outrage at his flirting and playfulness, the way he always brushed Eames off whenever he tried to have a genuine conversation with him. Everything that Arthur had said and done over the past several months told Eames one thing, but his actions over the course of that one day told him another.

Now, with Arthur's confession about the projection, Eames realized what was going on the whole time. Really, it surprised him how deeply Arthur tried to bury his feelings. So deeply that they manifested as this aggressive projection. One Arthur could only control when he finally let those feelings out, even momentarily the day before.

Eames blinked at Arthur, closing his mouth finally. He reached out a hand, tentative, nervous, brushing over Arthur's, on his knee. "Arthur," he began, looking Arthur in the eyes, his gaze searching for the answers he knew were there below the surface. "Are you trying to tell me what I think you are?" He needed Arthur to say it, he couldn't step around the truth any more. He _needed_ it clearly from Arthur. As clearly as Arthur needed his information from everyone else.

Arthur visibly flinched at Eames's touch; he'd definitely expected Eames to strike him. He wouldn't have blamed him, he'd been such a complete ass to the man..

He didn't relax when he realized Eames's fingers were gentle, still tense as he looked down. He tried to meet Eames's intense gaze, but he was afraid he'd just just chicken out. Again.

"Yes, exactly what you're thinking, that's what I'm trying to tell you." Arthur began, his voice small and hesitant and it sounded strange coming from the usual bold and composed man.

Eames was still silent and Arthur made a noise of frustration, and he knew what he wanted. Eames was just as fucking stubborn as he was, and he smiled a bit to himself, knowing that was part of the reason why he was in this situation in the first place.

He sighed, and his fingers reached up to meet the forger's, and he watched them slowly entwine and come to rest on his knee. And all of sudden, he felt warmer.

"Yes, you do annoy me sometimes, Eames. I'm not the easiest person to get along with either. But there are traits of yours that... I do like." He could feel himself feeling a little floaty, and he was reminded of what this felt like. Telling someone these kinds of things.

"Your accent, for one. How dedicated you are to what you do. How amazing you are at it," He started to gain momentum, and he could finally look Eames in the eye. He was starting to look a bit more confident.

"How you seem to care about me, though I've been less than cordial to you." He softened a bit saying that, but kept going. "I just... I care about you too, it's just... god, I don't know. I don't know." He started to waiver a little. _No. Keep going._

"I don't have deluded preconceptions of you. All right? I happen to have a fairly high opinion of you." He hesitated, trying to find words that wouldn't make him sound like a 13 year old girl.

"I... ah. God, I sound like an idiot." He shook his head, running a hand through his already tousled hair.

Eames listened to the words spill from Arthur's lips, the thoughts and confessions he had been hoping to hear for the longest time. They made his heart leap and his stomach twist, hearing Arthur relent control on his thoughts and feelings for once.

Eames reached up to Arthur's hand in his hair, pulling it away to rest beside their other hands, not allowing Arthur to fidget and worry. "Arthur," Eames started, a small smile playing on his lips. "You don't sound like an idiot."

Arthur started shaking his head in disagreement, but Eames stopped him, resting a hand on Arthur's cool cheek, forcing him to look him in the eye. "You never sound like an idiot."

Arthur's cheek was still chilled from being outside, and Eames's hand was so warm on his face, Arthur wished he would never move it. He started to smile himself, and he felt relief deep, deep down, a dull, throbbing sensation, pleasant, that started to spread from his chest to his limbs to his face.

He leaned into Eames's touch, and their foreheads met, and he could feel the warmth of the other man's breath close to his face. The man really was a furnace, and Arthur was starting to warm up, though his hands were still freezing.

It was just so... so fucking nice. Perfect. Right.

"I'm sorry," Arthur found himself muttering again, and the guilt over what he had put Eames through was staggering.

Eames closed his eyes, breathing deep, enjoying the moment, Arthur so close to him, finally allowing him in. "I know, Arthur," Eames spoke, silencing Arthur. His voice was barely a whisper, quiet in this intimate moment. Arthur filled his senses, the scent of his cologne, the sound of his voice, careful and low, the feel of his face against his. Eames felt like he could sit like this forever, comfortable and happy in this moment with Arthur. Though, there was more to be said.

"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I pushed you when you weren't ready. I'm sorry I refused to listen to you when you tried to tell me this... But mostly," Eames took a breath, reaching up to cup Arthur's other cheek, holding Arthur's cool face between his warm palms. He opened his eyes and looked into Arthur's, the point man's gaze questioning. Swallowing the lump that appeared in his throat, he continued. "Mostly, though, I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner."

Eames moved forward, pressing his lips to Arthur's. He could see the surprise registering on Arthur's face the moment before he closed his own eyes, falling into the sensations of the kiss. The rough skin of Arthur's lips against his own, chapped by the cold of the small town. The low moan in the back of Arthur's throat as he slid his tongue along Arthur's, the brief sensation sending chills through his whole body despite how warm he was. And the way Arthur's hands struggled to find a place to grasp onto, searching for purchase, before finally settling onto his shoulders, nails digging through the jacket and into his skin.

Arthur started and leaned back a bit when he felt Eames pressing his mouth against his, but the hesitation didn't last long, and he was soon pushing back, closing his eyes, relishing every sensation that he was being given.

His face got hot almost immediately, flooding his cheeks with color. It was like a kick, and he had to keep himself from falling, grabbing onto Eames's shoulders and holding tight as Eames worked his technique, letting himself react naturally to a kiss he had waited for god knows how long.

When Eames finally pulled away, Arthur leaned forward a bit, and added a short kiss of his own, and when he pulled back he was smiling.

"Apology accepted," He chuckled, his thumb gently traveling up the side of Eames's neck.

Eames moaned low in his throat at the feeling of Arthur's fingers along his neck. The intimate touch sending warmth blossoming through his body despite the chill of Arthur's fingers. Eames nuzzled into Arthur's neck, pressing his lips against his skin, breathing deep his scent, not wanting to lose the closeness he had finally found.

With one hand curling in Arthur's hair, he tilted his head up to whisper in his ear, a question his mind had been begging to answer since he realized the truth. "How long?" His breath ghosted over Arthur's ear, making the other man visibly shiver.

Arthur paused, letting Eames's hands roam over his head for a minute with his eyes closed. It was hard to pinpoint when he had started feeling this way. It hadn't been some epic epiphany, where he woke up one day and realized he had these feelings.

"About... a year, I guess," Arthur replied quietly, sliding his arm across the other man's broad back. "I don't know, really."

He wrapped his fingers around the collar of Eames's jacket. "You can take your jacket off, you know." He paused, the corner of his mouth turned upwards in a crooked smile.

"And, uh, your shoes too. If you want."

Eames leaned into Arthur as he wrapped his arms around him. With Arthur's offer, Eames glanced down at the point man, returning the smile on his face. "Arthur, darling. Are you inviting me to stay?"

"I know damn well you have no intention of leaving," Arthur snorted, but his remark was far from sounding annoyed. "But you can't lay in this bed with shoes on."

Eames shrugged, "All right, then." He slid his arms from his jacket, tossing it to a nearby chair and quickly toed off his shoes. Without his jacket, he could feel the chill in the room, though the radiator was slowly warming it up.

Eames glanced over at Arthur, noticing he still had his jacket on. He turned back to Arthur and reaching out, he began to unbutton his peacoat, sliding it from his frame and tossing it to join the other jacket on the chair. He returned his hands to Arthur's arms, running them along slowly, helping to warm the other man, before pulling him close.

Arthur opened his mouth to be indignant, _I'm perfectly capable of undressing myself, thank you_ ; but he stopped himself and instead just watched Eames's face as he concentrated on the buttons of his coat and his arms, his face placid but unreadable.

He allowed him to wrap his arms around him and adjusted himself to lean against him, enveloped in his warmth. He was unnervingly quiet.

"You okay?" Arthur asked tentatively, as he laid his chin against the other man's shoulder.

Eames closed his eyes, running his fingers along Arthur's back in lazy circles. A question came to mind, as his thoughts wandered back to the dream earlier in the day. "Question." Eames said, quietly, "Were you serious, today. About following me to Limbo? You were willing to do that for me?"

"Of course I was serious," Arthur replied, and his voice was almost a whisper, but it possessed confidence and a firm edge. "You know I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean to follow through."

Eames nodded, processing Arthur's words. "No one's ever done anything like that for me before. Not even offer." The way he had made his living rarely let him get close to anyone, let alone have a relationship where they would care about him the way Arthur did. His history of relationships was rarely about love and always about need. Arthur was one of the few people he had let get close enough for him to truly fall for.

He pulled away from Arthur for a moment, studying his face intently, the unflinching honesty in his eyes, the firmness of his mouth. He let out a low, shuddering breath before leaning in to kiss him once more. This time the kiss was unhurried, soft, earnest. He pressed a hand to the back of Arthur's head, his fingers curling in his hair, his other hand found the small of Arthur's back and held him close.

Arthur's hand found the side of Eames's neck as he pulled away from the kiss, and he ran his thumb along the other man's jaw. "Hey," He said quietly. "Hey, look at me." He used his thumb to move his gaze to meet his.

"I know how hard it is. Trust me, I know. All you can do is appreciate the moment. While it lasts."

He pressed a kiss against Eames's forehead, and pulled away, a little smile playing at his features. "That means no more beer on an empty stomach."

Eames smiled, a wide, genuine smile, remembering the day before and Arthur's sudden openness under the influence. "Well," he responded, "At least not too often."

He watched Arthur's face carefully, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, recognizing how tired he was underneath that smile. He could easily stay up all night talking and kissing and reveling in Arthur's and his happiness, but he could see that Arthur needed sleep more.

"Why don't we tuck in for the night?" He asked, nodding toward the bed. "I'll be your personal furnace," he added, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. "Is it that obvious that I hate the weather here?" But he was already bending over and untying his shoes, setting them aside. He then started to unbutton his shirt.

Eames closed his eyes, the sound of Arthur's laughter washing over him. He could get used to that sound, he had heard it so rarely before. "No, not obvious at all," he replied, sarcasm evident in his voice.

Standing up, he quickly stripped down to his boxers, leaving his pants and shirt laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. When Arthur sent him a pointed look, Eames laughed before climbing into the bed, under the covers, sliding over so Arthur could join him.

Arthur slipped a pair of lounge pants over his own underwear, refusing to comment on the clothes that Eames had left on the floor. "It is too cold here for me to sleep like that." He paused when he reached for a t-shirt.

"Though I suppose if you're going to keep me warm, I don't need all of what I usually sleep in, do I?" He looked over at Eames, at his smug expression but yet somewhat humbled gaze, and shrugged before climbing in the bed next and sliding up next to him.

He hesitated; he wasn't sure how exactly this would work. It had been awhile since he'd shared a bed with anyone, much less someone who an hour ago had just been his coworker.

Eames watched Arthur undress for bed, enjoying the way his lithe body moved as he bent and twisted, hurriedly pulling pants back on. He caught Arthur's eyes before he climbed into the bed, a smile forming on his lips as color rose in Arthur's cheeks.

Once Arthur was in bed, Eames rolled onto his side, leaving space for Arthur to curl in next to him. "Come closer," he invited Arthur, "I won't bite... tonight."

Arthur chuckled as he lowered himself next to Eames. "Good to know."

He'd watched how gracefully and easily Eames had slid underneath the covers, and though he tried to emulate it, he utterly failed. The best word to describe Arthur's descent onto the bed was awkward, all short movements, hesitation and apologies as he accidentally elbowed Eames in the head - not forcefully or painfully, but the way he apologized for it, you'd think he would have.

He was grateful when Eames wrapped his fingers around his arms and started to guide him. He finally came to rest with his body flush to the other man's, tucking his head in next to his, and Eames's body heat made him start to drift off almost immediately.

Eames wrapped his arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him close and breathing deep his scent, committing the moment to memory. He had so few of these moments, the calm and quiet surrounding him, happiness a warm glow from within, Arthur finally allowing him in. He didn't want to forget a thing about it.

"Goodnight," he whispered in Arthur's ear, "Sleep well." He pressed a kiss to his earlobe. "And when you dream, dream of me."

Arthur adjusted his weight against Eames, still feeling fairly awkward though Eames was trying his best to help him ease into this kind of thing. He snorted softly, his eyelids heavy, looking at Eames from underneath his eyelashes.

"With or without the uniform and the handcuffs?" He muttered groggily.


End file.
